Remember Who You Are
by CastlePhoenix
Summary: Ten years ago the body of Severus Snape disappeared. Harry Potter never believed he was truly dead. In 2008, Harry comes across a man who cannot remember who he is. Does Harry hold the answer to his true identity? AU post-DH, no slash
1. September 2008 I

**A/N:** Hello all! I'm currently studying for exams but I found I couldn't quite get this story out of my head. For those of you who've read my 'You've Forgotten Who I Am' this story is similar. When I started that one I wanted to also write one where Snape is the one suffering amnesia. 'Remember Who You Are' is Snape's story as he struggles to regain his past with Harry's help. I thought about the concept for this story for a long time and eventually I decided that the only time Harry would ever be able to legitimately help Snape regain his memories was if he were older. For all of you who are following 'You've Forgotten Who I Am', the sequel to that is my priority. This story will be posted over a much longer period than 'You've Forgotten Who I Am' - probably once a month updates. That's probably all I need to say for the moment apart from the usual disclaimer that JK Rowling owns everything. I hope you enjoy the beginning of this story and I'd love to hear your thoughts! Until next time :) 

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><p><strong>Remember Who You Are<strong>

_2nd May, 1998 - Hogwarts_

It was evening when Harry woke. For a moment he didn't realise where he was, so unfamiliar had the Gryffindor awnings of his four-poster become. The last of the sunlight crept rapidly across the floor of the dormitory, plunging the room into darkness. Getting up, Harry flicked his wand at the lamp and immediately a warm glow filled the room. Looking round he couldn't quite believe he'd made it back here. Less than twenty four hours ago he had been at King's Cross, speaking with Dumbledore.

He shook the thought from his mind; there were more pressing matters to attend to. He had woken to a new world; one where Voldemort no longer existed. Slowly he moved towards the window. The last twenty four hours had been trying and although he had no obvious wounds his muscles protested despite the short distance. He leant his head against the cool glass, surveying the destruction that lay before him.

Harry did not know how long he stood there. At first he simply stared numbly, taking in the sight of the damaged grounds. Trees had been ripped from the forest and castle masonry decorated the lawns. From his vantage point he couldn't see the state of the castle but he knew it had been hit hard. Entire corridors had been destroyed by the giants and Death Eater's curses. As he stared at the grounds, memories of the fight flashed before his eyes and before long his thoughts had turned to those that had died.

_Fred...Remus...Tonks...Colin..._

In all fifty people had given their lives. Too many of them Hogwarts students, Harry thought bitterly. Some of them Harry had never even met, he'd simply seen them in the corridors. As he stood by the window he realised his face was wet with silent tears. Reaching up a hand he tried to brush them away but they would not stop. He had not cried properly in years. He had never let himself, especially after Sirius' death. But now he could not stop the tears. He gasped as an involuntary sob was wrenched from him. He felt his legs give way beneath him causing him to slide to the ground.

For a long time he cried as he realised the enormity of what he had achieved and the price that had been paid. Eventually his tears dried up and his sobs diminished. He was left sitting crumpled beneath the window sill, red-eyed and exhausted. He felt better though. It was as if a great weight had been lifted from him. The guilt was still there, he knew, but it was diminished now. Shakily he pulled himself to his feet. He had a role to play, even now. As much as he hated it he needed to be seen by the defenders of Hogwarts.

Moving towards the door, Harry stopped when he noticed a small pile of clothes folded neatly at the end of his four-poster. He smiled slightly as he realised Kreacher must have brought them up whilst he was asleep. Quickly he pulled off his travel worn, battle stained clothes dumping them unceremoniously at the end of his bed. He wasn't sure what he wanted to do with those clothes yet. Absentmindedly he pulled on the fresh trousers and green button down shirt Kreacher had left him. He hesitated before donning the dark robe over the top. Satisfied that he was dressed appropriately he made his way into the bathroom.

His reflection caught him off guard. The difference wasn't as startling as it had been at Shell Cottage but it was still shocking. When he had first seen himself that first night in Shell Cottage he had been so surprised he'd nearly cursed himself. Six months on the run with inadequate supplies had left Harry looking worn, his hair almost shoulder length and matted through with dirt. With Fleur's help he'd cut his hair but the haggard appearance had remained.

He smiled bitterly now as he took in his current appearance. His eyes were puffy and red, his hair unruly and stubble covered his jaw. There were dark shadows beneath his eyes and his cheeks had a hollow look about them. He filled the sink with warm water before cupping some in his hand and washing his face. Leaning against the sink he studied his jaw line, considering the stubble. With a wave of his wand he performed a simple shaving charm. Standing straight he ran his hand across his now smooth jaw before leaving the bathroom, satisfied that he no longer looked like a wraith.

Carefully he made his way down the deserted Hogwarts corridors to the Great Hall. The castle was eerily silent and many of the corridors were completely dark, undoubtedly destroyed in the battle. The doors to the Great Hall were thrown open, light spilling out into the Entrance Hall. A low murmur of voices could be heard, giving Harry the impression that the Great Hall was relatively empty. Taking a moment to compose himself he stepped into the Hall.

The four house tables had been removed leaving only the teacher's table, alone on its dais. Several people were clustered around the table and to Harry's relief he realised it was members of the Weasley family. Feeling much more at ease he quickly crossed the distance to the table, his footsteps echoing in the empty space. The quiet chatter broke off as Ron and Ginny looked up. Hermione was seated next to Ron, leaning against him with Ron's arm thrown protectively around her. Ginny sat on Ron's other side, her meal sitting abandoned beside her. Harry felt his heart lift slightly as Ginny smiled sadly at him. Mr Weasley, Mrs Weasley and George were all missing. Percy and Charlie sat glumly at the other end of the table whilst Bill had his arm around Fleur.

'Where is everyone?' Harry asked as he moved to sit next to Ginny.

Before he had left to sleep, Hogwarts had been teeming with families.

'Most people have gone home,' Ron answered, 'unless they...'

He trailed off but Harry knew what he was going to say..._unless they lost someone_.

'Dinner finished an hour ago,' Hermione continued, as though Ron had not stopped. 'Those that are still here have returned to the emergency accommodation. Professor McGonagall transfigured a few of the classrooms on the ground floor that weren't damaged too badly into dormitories. We were just waiting for the others to get back before we went to bed.'

Harry nodded glumly.

'Oh I nearly forgot Harry,' Ginny said suddenly into the silence. 'Madam Pomfrey wanted to see you when you woke up. She said you disappeared before she could check you over.'

Harry groaned aloud at that, eliciting a small chuckle from Ron and Hermione.

'She already caught up with us mate,' Ron said apologetically, although it didn't help that he was smirking knowingly at Harry.

Resigned to his fate Harry stood up, realising it would be best to get his meeting with Madam Pomfrey over and done with.

'I'll go see her now then,' he said.

'I'll come with you,' Ginny volunteered.

For a moment Harry considered saying yes, but he could see Ginny was exhausted.

'It's alright Gin,' he said gently. 'I might be a while. I'll come find you when I'm done,' he promised before leaning over and giving her a quick kiss on the cheek.

Without looking back he left the Great Hall.

The closer Harry got to the Hospital Wing, the slower his strides became. He knew what awaited him in there. After the battle, the teachers had moved all those who had died up to the Hospital Wing, placing them in an extended wing. The injured had been treated mostly in the Great Hall by various staff and once the battle was over, a contingent of Healers from St Mungo's. Anyone severely injured had been taken to St Mungo's. Harry stopped outside the doors to the Hospital Wing but he could not bring himself to open them. Instead he stood helplessly outside, trying to summon the courage to enter.

Harry jumped slightly as the doors suddenly swung open, revealing a silent George supported by a teary-eyed Mrs Weasley and a stoic Mr Weasley.

'Oh Harry,' cried Mrs Weasley the moment she saw him, immediately enveloping him in a bone-crushing hug.

'I'm so sorry,' Harry began, looking beseechingly over his shoulder at George and Mr Weasley. 'I...I never meant...' he trailed off unsure of what to say.

George didn't seem to hear him but Mr Weasley stepped forward, suddenly grasping his shoulder.

'This wasn't your fault Harry,' he said gently.

Harry could only hold his gaze for a moment but behind the abundant grief he could tell Arthur was speaking in earnest.

'We're so proud of you Harry,' Mrs Weasley said, her arms still wrapped tightly around Harry, as though afraid he would suddenly disappear.

'Come on Molly,' Arthur said softly, carefully disengaging Mrs Weasley from Harry. 'Harry needs to see Poppy now.'

Mrs Weasley nodded numbly, before automatically turning to hold onto George, who was simply staring vacantly at the floor. Arthur looked at his son in concern, before gently guiding the pair past Harry.

'Come back to us when you're done Harry,' he said quietly.

Harry nodded before slipping into the Hospital Wing. A sheet divided the room and Harry knew immediately that those that had died were behind it. Automatically he stepped behind it, knowing that he had to see who had died for him.

The sheet fell back into place with a soft swish but Harry paid it no mind, his gaze fixed steadily on the sixth year Hufflepuff girl who lay before him. She was wearing a simple white gown, her body preserved by a stasis charm. Harry had seen her often enough in the library. She'd had a habit of studying with her Ravenclaw boyfriend. Once or twice Hermione had wondered how they ever got anything done, but Harry had never really minded. As he moved away he realised he'd never learnt her name.

A few beds down he found her boyfriend. He was almost unsurprised to find him. The two had never been far apart in life.

'Thank you,' he whispered quietly to the nameless boy, as he had for everyone he had passed so far.

A few more paces and he found the tiny body of Colin Creevey. Blindly Harry reached out for the end of the bed, to steady himself as the world tilted around him. Tears clouded his vision but he made no move to hide them. After an immeasurable time Harry finally found the strength to move on.

Remus and Tonks lay next to each other. Seeing Remus again wasn't as hard as he'd expected. His dealings with the Resurrection Stone had reassured him that Remus would always be watching over him now. That he was a part of Harry. It was hard for him to see Tonks though. She had always been so full of life. He made a silent vow as he stood before the pair that he would love Teddy as his own son.

Finally he reached Fred. Seeing him once again was perhaps the hardest of all for Harry, for he had been a brother to him. As he stood silently by the bed he remembered all the times he had laughed with Fred...conspired with Fred...played Quidditch with Fred...been rescued by Fred. He truly had been one of his brothers.

'I'm so sorry,' Harry said quietly.

'It wasn't your fault Harry,' a voice said from behind him.

Turning swiftly Harry found himself face to face with a careworn Madam Pomfrey. How long she had been watching him he could not say. Quietly the matron stepped forward before gently guiding Harry out of the silent wing and towards her office. He was surprised to see Professor McGonagall already seated at Madam Pomfrey's desk, surrounded by scrolls of parchment. He frowned in confusion until he remembered she had taken on the roll of Headmistress, given the fate of her predecessor.

'Where's Professor Snape?' he asked suddenly, as he realised that Snape's body had not been among the deceased.

Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall both gazed at him in confusion and Harry realised with horror that no one had gone to retrieve his body.

'We weren't sure Harry...'

'No one knew where he was...'

The witches spoke together but Harry barely heard them. He had explained Snape's allegiance to the Hall at large as he had stood for the last time before Voldemort. It only occurred to him now though that it was likely only a few people had taken in his explanation. At the time most people had still been processing his sudden reappearance after his "death" and realising what it meant for the battle.

'Severus Snape was Dumbledore's man,' he said decisively.

He stood suddenly then, startling McGonagall and Pomfrey.

'Where are you going Harry?' Pomfrey demanded, determined to examine him properly whilst he was still in her grasp.

'I'm going to bring him home,' Harry said simply.

Harry crossed the grounds, hidden beneath his Invisibility Cloak. He wanted to do this alone, undisturbed. As he walked he mulled over the enigma that had been Severus Snape. The man had never been pleasant but he had saved Harry's life countless times. Over the past few hours Harry had processed Snape's last memories and he had realised that he truly regretted the man's death. The revelation that Snape had known and loved his mother was enormous and Harry wished he had learnt of Snape's true loyalties earlier. There was so much he wanted to say to the man and so much he wished to ask the man about Lily Evans. But he had died.

Harry pulled the cloak off himself as he entered the tunnel beneath the Whomping Willow. Bent double he moved through the tunnel, his thoughts occupied with Snape's actions. The end of the tunnel came into sight and agilely Harry pulled himself up into the room where Snape had died. He was so distracted by his thoughts that it took him a moment to realise what was missing.

'What the...' he said aloud in shock.

Snape was nowhere to be seen.

For a moment Harry thought he was in the wrong room but he realised he couldn't be. He lit his wand, confirming that the dark stain on the floor was Snape's blood. Harry paled slightly as he took in the amount of blood, remembering the feeling as he'd tried to stop the blood gushing from the man's wounds. Lifting his wand higher he caught sight of a bundle in the corner. Cautiously he lifted it to inspect it. With a start he realised it was Snape's teaching robes. They were heavy with congealed blood, and Harry jumped as something fell to the floor. Bending down he picked up the object. It was Snape's wand. The dark wood warmed slightly as though it recognised him. Automatically Harry pocketed it. Gathering up Snape's robe he quickly searched the remainder of the Shrieking Shack but he knew he would find nothing. Someone had taken Snape, he was sure of it. The wounds Snape had suffered were too great for the man to have left by himself.

It was a small chance, but the moment he had felt Snape's wand warm in his hand Harry had known for sure that somewhere Severus Snape was alive. Find Snape's saviour and he would find the man himself, he thought.

That understanding sparked a flame of hope within Harry, one that would burn for many years.

XXXX

In the year following the final battle, Harry studied for his NEWTs externally. He completed his NEWTs in Potions, Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration and Herbology before applying to enter the Auror Academy in August 1999. Strictly speaking he could have entered without the qualifications but if Harry was going to join, he wanted to do it by the book.

Whilst studying, Harry was instrumental in bringing many Death Eaters to justice. His testimonies and his pardons were numerous. Kingsley was officially named Minister for Magic and worked closely with Harry. Upon Harry's suggestion Draco and Narcissa Malfoy were completely pardoned for their roles in the War.

The shambles the Ministry had been left in took several months to correct, under Kingsley's careful guidance. As such, Lucius Malfoy spent several weeks in Azkaban awaiting trial for his role in the War. Harry kept his own views on Malfoy's imprisonment to himself but it was with Ginny's blessing that he withheld his testimony against Mr Malfoy.

In all cases surrounding followers who claimed they had been under the Imperius curse Harry argued for a long time to grant them all pardons. He remembered too vividly Stan Shunpike's expressionless face beneath a Death Eater mask. Despite his own misgivings Kingsley reluctantly pardoned them all. Many Death Eater's had been killed but those that belonged to Voldemort's inner circle were once more imprisoned for life in Azkaban.

Ginny completed her final year at Hogwarts and graduated in July 1999. Upon finishing school she joined the Holyhead Harpies in August and played with them for four seasons, retiring in May 2003. Harry graduated from the Auror Academy in 2002 with first class honours. On August 11, 2002 (Ginny's 21st birthday), Harry proposed to her. A delighted Mrs Weasley burst into tears upon hearing the news. Harry found this quite amusing given he had been dating her daughter properly since May 2, 1998.

In early 2003, Harry was promoted to Deputy Head of the Auror Corp after refusing to take on the Head of Department role – claiming he was too inexperienced. Since Ginny was doing her final tour with the Holyhead Harpies and Harry was adjusting to his new job the couple decided to postpone their marriage until August. On August 14th 2003, Ginerva Weasley married Harry James Potter. The pair were married at the Godric's Hollow church amidst a huge crowd of friends and family. The reception was held at the Burrow and was a strictly private event.

To Harry's absolute surprise Dudley Dursley attended the wedding. He apologised for his mother's absence although he did tell Harry that secretly he thought Petunia was happy for him. Dudley himself planned to marry in the next year and invited both Ginny and Harry to the wedding. Both of them attended although Ginny was heavily pregnant with their first child at the time. The couple moved into Grimmauld Place, where they had been living together since their engagement. Ted Remus lived intermittently with them but both Ginny and Harry loved the boy as their own son.

XXXX

Ginny gave birth to James Sirius Potter on the 9th August, 2004. The birth was long but both Harry and Ginny fell in love with their son the moment they saw him. James was born at 2:15am and Ginny didn't think she had ever seen Harry so happy. The couple had declined to learn the sex of their child before his birth and had only discussed baby names in passing. Both Harry and Ginny wanted to wait before they named their child.

At 4am James was named.

Harry was seated on the bed with his arms wrapped around Ginny, their tiny child cradled protectively against Ginny. The boy was asleep, his little fist curled reflexively around Ginny's finger. Harry had been quiet since the birth and was studying his little son with wonder. It was Ginny who finally broke the silence.

'What about James Sirius Potter?' she asked quietly, stroking her son's hair gently.

Harry had suggested both names as possibilities when they had discussed it before their son's birth but he had never suggested them together. Seeing her son now though, Ginny knew it was the right name for him. Harry's grip tightened slightly on Ginny and she looked up to see his green eyes studying her earnestly.

'Are you sure?' he asked.

Ginny simply nodded in response, and Harry's face split into a smile.

'James Sirius Potter,' he whispered.

Their son opened his eyes, the same warm brown as Ginny's, and they both knew they'd made the right decision.

When James turned one, Andromeda suggested that Teddy live more permanently with the Potter's. Teddy loved playing with James and Andromeda wanted her grandson to grow up with other children. Harry and Ginny made their decision almost instantly and Teddy Lupin moved into Grimmauld Place permanently.

Teddy doted on Harry and Harry loved the boy completely. He attended the local muggle school – Harry would drop him off in the mornings, and Ginny would pick him up – and occasionally Harry took him into work with him (which Teddy absolutely loved). Andromeda was always on hand to see Teddy but she wanted Teddy to belong to Harry's family – and Harry wanted Teddy to have a family more than anything. The arrival of the second Potter child though meant that their family was quite busy and Andromeda often spent her days with Ginny at Grimmauld Place, helping her with the young children.

XXXX

Ginny gave birth to her second son on the 18th January, 2006. As soon as she saw him she knew this child would grow up to be the spitting image of his father. Albus had Harry's exact eyes. The moment Harry saw that his son had inherited his eyes – Lily's eyes – something changed in his expression. Harry was silent for most of the day, as numerous visitors arrived to congratulate them, and Ginny could tell he was deep in thought. He was such a proud father, she thought as she watched him hold his new son close. Late that afternoon Harry and Ginny finally got a moment to themselves to discuss names.

'Do you really think he's gone Gin?' Harry asked suddenly.

She knew immediately who he was asking about. Harry was staring at her in earnest and Ginny could tell that her answer was important to him. Since his disappearance Harry had often spoken about Severus Snape. He had returned from the Shrieking Shack empty handed except for a robe and Snape's wand. A look of complete determination had been in his eyes that day as he'd told the Weasleys, Hermione, Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall that he was sure Snape was still alive somewhere. Upon returning he'd disappeared off to the Headmaster's office to speak to Dumbledore's portrait. Whatever Dumbledore had told him though, Harry had not liked it. Still Ginny knew that tucked away in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was a small file dedicated to Severus Snape. Each year Harry allocated a small amount of resources to finding the man – but Ginny knew it was only ever Harry who searched for him.

Harry had never shown her or anyone else the memories Severus Snape had left him – and Ginny had never asked to see them. She had believed Harry the moment he had told her of Snape's true loyalties. Despite his inability to locate the man, Harry had yet to give up the search. He had explained his reasons to Ginny countless times and eventually she had finally agreed, albeit tentatively, that it was possible that Snape could still be alive. Something Dumbledore had let slip, the night Harry had spoken to his portrait, had cemented Harry's belief that Snape was still alive.

Despite Harry's certainty, Headmistress McGonagall placed a granite slab by Dumbledore's tomb recognising Severus' contribution to the war. As far as the Wizarding World was concerned Severus Snape had died by Voldemort's hand in the final battle. To Harry's disgust the memorial was vandalised within months of being placed. The perpetrators were never caught but their message was clear. _TRAITOR_ had been painted across the slab, in chicken's blood.

The way Harry was looking at her now though, absolutely determined to hear the truth, she knew she could not lie to him.

'I think you would have heard something by now Harry,' she said gently.

For the briefest of seconds a look of guilt and sadness flashed across Harry's face but he hid it well.

'Maybe you're right,' he admitted softly, but Ginny could tell he didn't quite believe that.

Finally Harry had looked up from their son.

'I want to honour them Gin,' he said quietly. 'The Headmaster's of Hogwarts. They both gave their lives for me...for _us_.'

Ginny watched her husband closely as he gazed at their son. He was right, both Dumbledore and Snape had protected Harry and given their lives for him. She looked down at the tiny bundle clutched to her chest, mulling the names over in her mind. His eyes were open and he was staring quietly at his parents.

'Albus Severus Potter,' she whispered.

Harry's grip tightened on her slightly and Ginny smiled as she looked over at him.

The name fit their child perfectly.

XXXX

James loved his new brother from the moment he met him and the Potter family adjusted easily to its newest member. In 2007 Harry was made Head of the Auror Corp – the youngest ever. Despite the hours his new job required he still found time to devote himself to his slow search for Severus Snape. Periodically he would visit Albus' portrait but he was as stubborn as always, remaining particularly tight-lipped about the whole thing. Each time he visited the office though Harry would look for Snape's portrait – but it had never appeared.

XXXX

_30th September, 2008 - London_

It was a miserable autumn day in London but not even the drizzling rain could wipe the smile off Harry Potter's face as he turned onto Grimmauld Place. He took the steps to number 12 two at a time, letting himself in with a wave of his wand. The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black had passed to Harry upon the death of his godfather twelve years ago but the house was unrecognisable now. With a little help from Kreacher, the darkness and gloom that had once permeated the house had been replaced by the vibrant, messy Potter household.

'I'm home,' Harry called out as he stepped inside.

Distractedly he flung his wet overcoat at the coat rack, which caught it easily before deftly depositing it upon one of its hooks. An excited yell and the sound of racing footsteps met Harry's announcement and within seconds the boys were upon him.

'Dad!' Teddy yelled, his hair changing colour rapidly in his excitement, as he bounced around Harry's legs. 'Tell us! Tell us! Tell us!' he chanted.

Teddy had been calling Harry 'Dad' since he'd learnt to talk. At seventeen Harry had felt out of his depth in the role but with Andromeda's encouragement and with the realisation that he wanted Teddy to belong to a family he'd let the name stick. Now, having had his own children, he wondered why he'd ever been worried. Standing beside Teddy, three year old James had joined in the chant and Harry had to hold back a laugh as the two children jumped excitedly around him.

'You promised Dad!' James reminded him, staring beseechingly at his father.

'Alright, alright,' Harry said amusedly, crouching down to their height.

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Andromeda enter the hallway, Albus snuggled against her chest. She met his gaze eagerly and Harry knew she too was waiting to hear his news.

'You have a beautiful baby sister,' Harry declared proudly.

'A sister!' James exclaimed in wonder, bouncing excitedly on the spot.

'What's her name?' Teddy asked, beaming at Harry.

'Lily Luna Potter,' Harry answered barely able to keep his face from splitting, so big was his grin.

'Congratulations Harry,' Andromeda said warmly, hugging Harry as he got to his feet.

'When can we go and see Mummy?' James interrupted, tugging on Harry's trousers.

'Well,' Harry replied carefully looking over to Andromeda. 'If it's alright with Grandma Tonks, I don't see why you can't go now.'

'Please can we go gran?' Teddy pleaded, looking imploringly towards his grandmother.

'Alright,' Andromeda replied, smiling. 'Go and put your coats on boys.'

The two boys raced off upstairs both eager to meet their new sister.

'Thanks Andy,' Harry said tiredly.

Ginny had gone into labour early the previous afternoon. Harry had rushed straight from work to take her into St Mungo's but it hadn't been until mid-morning that Lily Luna had finally arrived. Amazingly Ginny had managed a few hours of sleep earlier in the night, but Harry had been too nervous to sleep. Instead he had spent the early hours of the morning prowling restlessly through St Mungo's. Luckily Andromeda had been on hand to watch the children for the night. Stooping slightly, Harry reached out to take Albus off her.

'How's Al been?' he asked quietly, his brow creasing slightly with concern as he studied his abnormally quiet two-year old son.

Gently he carded his hand through Al's hair, noting with relief that his fever had finally broken. Albus had picked up an upper respiratory tract infection over the last week, which had been particularly persistent. Earlier in the week he'd been quite sick. Fearing for Ginny and the unborn child, Harry had taken Al to the Burrow. It had been a trying few days, what with Al wanting his mother at times but eventually he seemed to have turned the corner. Still, Harry had felt particularly guilty leaving Andromeda to mind a sick toddler as well as James and Teddy overnight.

'He's much better Harry,' Andy said gently, seeing Harry's concern. 'I think he's just tired. His cough has certainly settled down, which is good.'

Harry nodded in agreement.

'Now are you sure you don't want to take the boys back to St Mungo's?' Andromeda asked, as they heard Teddy and James on the stairs.

'No, no,' Harry said determinedly. 'I'll stay home and look after Al, besides I'm sure Ginny will want to see you.'

'Well if you're sure Harry,' she replied.

'Absolutely,' he agreed. 'I've got some work to catch up on anyway,' he added bemusedly.

'Alright then,' Andy said, smiling as Teddy and James came into sight. 'Let's go then boys.'

Harry smiled as he waved goodbye from the doorstep.

'Just you and me now Al,' he said quietly, switching the child to his other side.

Albus didn't respond, and Harry looked down to find his son asleep in his arms. Gently he carried him upstairs to his office.

XXXX

As Head of the Auror Corp not even Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived-Twice, could afford to take days off work. Gently he placed Al down on the couch in his office before moving to examine the mound of paperwork that was piled in his overflowing In-tray. He had placed a particularly useful charm on the tray in his office at the Ministry that allowed him to receive his messages whilst at home. Now though, he was beginning to regret it slightly as messages continued to pile up. It seemed his office was particularly busy today. Resigning himself to his task he pulled the first of the many parchments from his tray out, unrolling it as he set to work.

Around lunchtime Harry was distracted from his work as Al climbed up into his lap. He looked much better now and Harry was relieved to find his cough really had settled down.

'Hey Al,' he said gently putting down his quill. 'How are you feeling?'

Absentmindedly he checked the boy's temple, reassuring himself that the fever truly had broken. Of the three boys that lived in Grimmauld Place, Al was by far the quietest.

'Daddy,' Albus said happily, standing up on Harry's knees and giving his father a sloppy kiss.

Harry laughed, picking the toddler up and blowing a quick raspberry on his tummy.

'Time for lunch eh Al?' Harry said as he carried the boy downstairs.

Harry expertly prepared a Peanut Butter sandwich for his son and listened as the little boy chatted happily. When Al was done, he followed Harry back upstairs. Harry stopped by Al's room and summoned a sketchpad and pencils for the boy to occupy himself with while Harry worked.

Re-entering his study Harry's gaze was drawn immediately to the fireplace. Green flames roared in the hearth and Harry wasn't surprised to find his assistant's head floating in the flames. Michael Gibbons was four years younger than Harry and had been a Hufflepuff at Hogwarts. The young man was hardworking and intensely loyal – something Harry truly appreciated. He was sure that Gibbons' spent a lot of his time ensuring Harry and his family were kept out of the public eye.

'Michael,' Harry called in greeting as he set Albus up on the floor of his office. 'What can I do for you?'

'Hello Harry,' Michael replied distractedly, and Harry realised he was talking to several other people at the same time. 'Sorry Harry, it's madness here,' Michael said after a moment. 'Some nutcases have set off several simultaneous attacks in Muggle London. No one's been hurt,' he added hastily when he saw the alarm in Harry's face. 'We've just got our hands full dealing with modifying memories and catching the idiots who did it.'

'Was there any warning about the attack?' Harry asked, his brow creasing.

'None,' Michael replied gloomily. 'Hatchman's got the situation in hand though sir and we've got teams dealing with the Muggles now.'

'Good,' said Harry. Hatchman was one of the more experienced Aurors in Harry's Department. If he was on the job it was likely Ron was also – which meant the attack would be tying up the majority of his Department.

'I'm sorry to call on you Harry,' Michael continued hurriedly 'but there's no one else available.'

'What is it?' Harry asked seriously.

'We've had reports of an incident not too far from where you are,' he explained quickly. 'Anderson is on the scene with the Muggle Police but he needs backup. There are numerous Muggle witnesses and the details are confusing.'

Harry sighed, looking over at Albus who was still drawing.

'What's the address?' Harry asked resignedly.

Hastily he scribbled down the details Gibbons could supply him with and the address.

'Could you warn Anderson that I'll have Al with me?' Harry asked as he finished writing.

Michael nodded once before his head disappeared with a pop from the fireplace. Without waiting Harry summoned his Muggle ID and Al's jacket. Crouching by his son, he pulled the jacket on and as an afterthought applied a warming charm before picking him up.

'Daddy has to go into work Al,' he said as he carried his son downstairs. 'Are you alright to come with me?'

Albus nodded eagerly, Teddy had regaled both James and Albus with stories of how exciting Harry's work was. At the door Harry paused only to pull on his dried overcoat before grabbing an umbrella and stepping out onto the street. With a discreet wave of his wand he unlocked his car and strapped Al into his seat. Ginny and Harry had decided early on that having a car would be quite useful and both of them had Muggle licenses. Smoothly Harry pulled off from the curb, his Ministry car barely making a noise. Within moments he was a block from his desired destination. Turning onto the street Harry pulled up, just down from the line of emergency vehicles. A grey figure detached itself from the police cohort and hurried down to meet Harry as he got out of the car.

'Harry,' Anderson called in greeting. 'Thank goodness you made it. It's starting to get out of hand.'

Harry greeted Anderson with a warm handshake before moving round to get Al out. Greg Anderson was a squib. Harry had recruited him several years ago as a liaison officer between the Police and the Ministry. His unique insight into both worlds made him an invaluable resource.

'Here I'll take him,' Greg volunteered as Harry started towards the Police officers clustered around several ambulances.

'Oh thanks,' Harry said gratefully, handing his son over carefully.

Al smiled delightedly as he recognised Anderson giving the man a quick hug. Harry smiled at the pair before turning his attention to the scene before him. They were on a busy little street, lined with several shops. Passerby's had stopped to sticky beak at the scene, capitalising on the brief break in the rain to stand around. Harry moved forward importantly to where a group of officers were clustered close to one of the ambulances, taking witness statements.

'He's over there,' Anderson muttered from beside him, nodding to an ambulance where a single figure was being attended to.

A police officer and a paramedic blocked Harry's view of the man but he ignored him for the moment. He'd talk to the Muggles first. Approaching the most senior of the Muggle officers Harry flashed his warrant card.

'Detective Inspector Potter,' he said authoritatively.

'Sergeant Wilson, sir,' he replied.

'Perhaps you could explain the situation to me Sergeant,' Harry asked politely.

'Certainly sir,' the officer replied. 'We arrived twenty minutes ago after receiving a call that a man – Mr Smith,' here he inclined his head towards the man Anderson had pointed out earlier, 'was being attacked by several youths. When we arrived we found all four of them,' this time he pointed to the other ambulance where four disgruntled youths sat handcuffed on the ground whilst several paramedics attended to them, 'unconscious and uninjured.'

The man hesitated, and Harry could tell he was unsure of how to finish his explanation.

'Go on,' Harry prompted calmly.

'Well...' the officer began uncertainly, 'it sounds ridiculous sir, but witnesses claim they saw the youths attack Mr Smith...and he certainly has been injured sir...but then they say _Mr Smith_ attacked his attackers...they say he threw them all from him...at once sir!'

Wilson's tone was coloured with disbelief but Harry could tell the man was struggling to find a more logical explanation.

'Did he really?' Harry replied curiously, more to himself than Wilson.

Once more he looked towards the ambulance, but Mr Smith was still hidden from view.

'So they say sir,' Wilson replied in a frustrated tone. 'Anyway we arrested all of them sir. Some passerby's stopped Mr Smith from leaving the scene.'

'Excellent,' Harry said absentmindedly before excusing himself to talk to Anderson.

'Well it certainly sounds like magic, probably a stunner,' Harry said gravely, 'but why would he stay on the scene?' he mused to himself. 'And you're sure he carried no wand?'

'Searched him myself Harry,' Greg replied. 'Nothing to suggest he was a wizard at all.'

'Interesting,' Harry murmured. 'Do we have anything on him?'

'His name is John Smith,' Greg supplied. 'I checked his file – no criminal record, although there is an odd bit in his file from ten years ago. He turned up in an A&E with life threatening wounds and no identification. Doctors treated him and he recovered well enough, except when he woke up he claimed to have no idea who he was. Well, the local Police got involved and spent a few weeks trying to find next of kin but nobody ever came forward. In the end the hospital discharged him with a new identity. One of the junior doctors had written his file up with the name John Smith when he was first admitted and so the name stuck. Anyway he was on benefits for a couple of years assisted housing etc but he seemed to have a knack as a Pharmacist. Got himself a job and managed to set himself up. He's been living in Hackney ever since.'

'Alright,' Harry sighed. 'I'll modify their memories, and then I'll talk to our mystery man.'

It was a relatively easy process for Harry to modify the witness's memories. Those that had actually seen the event were already subconsciously trying to alter the memory to fit their own reality. All it took from Harry then was a slight nudge of their thoughts so that they re-ordered them in a much more logical and Muggle way. In all only four people had witnessed the stunners but Harry also made sure he altered the memories of the youths as well – although they remembered little of the event. All that remained then was for Harry to alter the police and paramedics memories so that they forgot the witnesses had ever mentioned the word 'magic'. Finally only the paramedic and police officer by John Smith remained.

Approaching them, Harry swiftly altered their memories from behind.

'I'll take him from here,' Harry said quietly to the young officer standing guard.

'Yes sir,' the young man answered before hastily moving away, although he looked slightly confused.

The paramedic was removing her gloves as Harry approached and she looked up to speak to him.

'Just cuts and bruises,' she reported succinctly. 'Possibly a broken nose, but he'll be fine to answer a few questions now.'

'Thank you,' Harry replied as the paramedic left him.

As she moved aside Harry saw John Smith for the first time. His head was bent forward, a bloody cloth clutched awkwardly to his nose to stem the bleeding. Harry realised the paramedic must have been holding the cloth in place before because the man's hands were handcuffed. He'd forgotten that Wilson had informed him that they'd arrested everyone.

'Perhaps I could have a moment of your time Mister Smith,' Harry said carefully to the silent man.

Harry's mode of address seemed to surprise the man and he looked up, for the first time showing his face.

Harry stepped backwards in shock.

'Professor?' he asked without thinking.

His hair had been trimmed into a neat Muggle style, the black eyes lacked their usual hatred and the nose was obviously broken but it did not stop Harry from recognising the man before him. He was older but it was without a doubt Severus Snape.

XXXX

**A/N: **Thought I better explain that between 1998 and 2008 I've provided a bit of Harry and Ginny's backstory (hopefully it's fairly clear). Undoubtedly more will come to light as the story progresses. The remainder of this story will continue on from 30th September 2008. Hope you all enjoyed!


	2. September 2008 II

**Chapter 2**

_30th September, 2008_

John Smith sat hunched over in an ambulance, a paramedic pressing a cloth roughly against his broken nose. He wished the dratted woman would leave him alone but it seemed nobody was particularly interested in listening to him. His ribs ached slightly where one of the hooligans who had accosted him had delivered a vicious kick.

'Hold this in place,' the paramedic said bluntly.

John's hands were cuffed awkwardly before him, the metal bands digging painfully into his wrists, but he managed to clumsily keep the cloth in place as the paramedic turned away from him. He scowled darkly at the woman's back.

'Keep your head down,' the woman snapped as she caught sight of him.

He shot her a dark look before dipping his head once more. He'd seen the wariness in the woman's eyes. She was afraid of him. It was the same wariness that had been in the eyes of the witnesses as they'd stopped him from leaving the scene.

He let out a frustrated breath. The injustice of being arrested – as the clear victim of an attack – ate at him. Not for the first time he caught himself wishing he'd skipped work this morning.

The paramedic was talking to a newcomer, but John ignored them both. He'd had enough of bureaucracy for one day.

'Perhaps I could have a moment of your time Mister Smith.'

It was not a demand, rather a request. Intriguingly the man sounded curious. Surprised, John looked up.

The man let out a gasp as he caught sight of John for the first time, stepping back in surprise.

'Professor?'

John stared at the man before him. He had long ago abandoned the idea that he would ever recall who he truly was. Whoever he had been before his accident – _that_ man had died. No one had ever come forward as next of kin. No one had cared to find him. It was something that had haunted John for ten years.

'Have we met?' John asked, frowning slightly as he studied the man before him.

He was dressed casually, yet there was an air of authority about him. He stood tall, with a mop of messy black hair and slightly lopsided glasses. It was his eyes though that caught John's attention. They were bright green. His heart clenched as he stared into the man's eyes.

When he'd first woken up in hospital, John had had several incidences of 'memory triggers' as the doctors had called it. Occasionally something about someone or a particular action would give him a sense of déjà vu. The doctors were hopeful at first but John's amnesia persisted and eventually he'd stopped reacting to stimuli. It had been ten years since he'd last felt the sensation but the young man's eyes meant something to John – he was sure of it.

John scowled impatiently as the man remained silent. Judging by his expression it seemed the young man was thinking very quickly about how best to answer. Finally he looked up, meeting John's expectant gaze.

'Yes,' he answered uncomfortably.

'When?' John demanded, unable to disguise his desire to hear the man's answer.

Again the man was slow to answer, fixing John with a grave look.

'I last saw you ten years ago, but you weren't John Smith when I knew you.'

The words washed over John in waves, drowning out his thoughts as he tried to comprehend the enormity of the man's answer.

_Not John Smith_

He had always known that he was not really John Smith – that he was someone else. But now that this man had confirmed his beliefs John didn't know what to do. Without his memories John Smith was the only identity he had. And for someone who could not recall who he was he _needed_ John Smith.

The anger and bitterness that was always so close to the surface these days rose up at the thought that this man was attempting to remove his identity. To once more leave him nameless and alone. _It was too good to be true_, he thought bitterly. He had spent years waiting for answers – but now he wasn't sure he could believe this man's assertion that he knew who John Smith really was.

'Don't _lie_ to me,' he snarled, lurching forward to awkwardly grab the neck of the man's shirt with his cuffed hands. 'Who are you?' he demanded.

John stood a few inches taller than the man but his actions didn't seem to intimidate the man at all. Instead, if John wasn't mistaken, he seemed unsurprised, almost relieved by John's response. Grasping John's wrists firmly the man released himself from his hold.

'You have my word that I'll answer your questions,' he said solemnly. 'But not here.'

John frowned and watched as the man glanced around before moving to pull something out of his inner pocket. Without realising it, John copied the movement. The man's eyebrows lifted as he realised what John was doing.

'I doubt you'll let me get away with this,' the man muttered to himself as he surreptitiously pointed a thin stick at John.

The last thing John saw before darkness closed in around him was the man stepping forward to catch him as he collapsed into unconsciousness.

XXXX

Harry sighed as he took the full weight of the unconscious Snape, leaning him against the ambulance as he took stock of the situation. He had considered asking Snape to come with him but the man was far too hostile, suspicious and stubborn. He doubted he'd have been able to get Snape to his car without some kind of altercation. In the end he'd decided a silent _Stupefy_ would give him enough time to transport Snape to a safe house and get hold of Madam Pomfrey. He did not doubt that Snape was in definite need of a Healer.

Harry ran a hand through his hair as he held Snape in place. He was more or less about to abduct Snape but the shock of finding Severus Snape in the Muggle world left him few options. The current state of Snape's accidental magic left him unpredictable and unstable. It was far safer for all concerned Harry thought, if he took Snape with him.

'Anderson,' he called over his shoulder to where Greg was standing with Albus.

The little boy was giggling and it looked to Harry that Greg had been playing 'tickle monster' with his son. Smiling, he watched as the pair approached. Greg noticed the unconscious Snape immediately. He frowned slightly at the sight but he did not question Harry.

'Could you put Al into his seat,' Harry instructed, pulling Snape into a standing position. 'It seems Mr Smith will be accompanying me.'

'Harry...'Greg began unsurely.

'It's fine Greg,' Harry placated. 'I think he'll forgive me eventually.'

Pulling Snape's arm over his own shoulder, after casting a subtle feather-light charm, Harry carefully guided the unconscious man to his car. Greg had already strapped Al in, but he hurried round to help Harry manoeuvre Snape into the car. Checking both Al and Snape were secured Harry shut the car door before turning to Greg once more.

'It would be best if no one knew this man was here,' Harry said gravely.

'Of course Harry.'

Harry nodded before moving to the driver's door.

'Thanks for your help Greg,' Harry said warmly, aware that the other man was still unsure about seemingly abducting the unconscious John Smith. 'You'll have to come over sometime soon, meet my daughter.'

He grinned cheekily as Greg's mouth dropped open.

'Harry you moron,' he complained loudly. 'You said you'd tell me!'

Greg was smiling bemusedly now, offering his hand.

'Congratulations!'

The pair shook hands; Harry grinning like an idiot.

'We'll talk soon,' Harry promised before getting into the car.

It had started to rain again and Harry watched as Greg ran for his own car, pausing only to wave to Al. Looking over his shoulder Harry met the expectant and inquisitive gaze of his two year old son.

'Who that?' the boy asked.

'A friend of mine,' he replied, smiling at his son. 'You ready to go home?'

'Yes!'

Harry chuckled at his son's exuberant reply, before starting his car and pulling swiftly away from the curb. Within minutes he was outside London all together; racing along a country road in the West Country of England.

Few people were aware that Harry Potter owned two properties. Even fewer were aware that the second was to be found in Godric's Hollow. It was outside his Godric's Hollow cottage though that Harry pulled up. He had purchased the house not long after he and Ginny had been married. The cottage his parents had owned was technically Harry's now but he had left that house as a testament to his parents sacrifice that Halloween night. It remained untouched, on the other side of the village from his current abode.

He had initially purchased the cottage as a safe house for his family. A place they could slip away to should the media attention ever get too much. Within a year of owning the property though the cottage had become a holiday home for the Potter family, and they often spent weeks of the year here. The cottage's secluded location and massive backyard meant the boy's were free to fly whilst Ginny had free range with the garden.

'Hollow! Hollow!' Albus exclaimed excitedly from the backseat as he saw where they had pulled up.

Harry smiled fondly at the little boy's chant. Teddy and James had a habit of chanting excitedly for 'Godric's Hollow' whenever Harry announced they'd be spending a weekend away. Albus had yet to grasp the word 'Godric's' and so simply chanted 'Hollow' instead.

'That's right,' Harry said as he got out to let Al out. 'Run along inside, while I help my friend in.'

He watched Albus run inside before walking over to Snape's side of the car. Awkwardly he pulled the man out before simply casting '_Mobilicorpus_'. Carefully Harry guided the unconscious man inside and straight up to the spare bedroom. Releasing the spell, Harry placed the unconscious man on top of the bedspread. Before he left he removed the handcuffs and with a quiet '_Episkey!_' and a '_Terego!_' fixed Snape's nose. At the door he hesitated before locking the room and moving back downstairs.

'Kreacher!' he called as he strode towards the living room, where he could hear Albus playing with his toy broom.

An instant later there was a 'pop' and the Potter's House Elf materialised before Harry, matching his pace automatically to Harry's.

'Master Harry,' the old elf greeted fondly. 'What can Kreacher do for you?'

'I must go to Hogwarts,' Harry explained. 'Professor Snape is currently in the spare bedroom; however he has lost his memories. He is unconscious at the moment but he may wake before I return. If he does, you must not let him see you Kreacher,' he impressed on the confused Elf, who was well aware of Harry's quest to find Snape.

'He has no idea about the Wizarding world,' Harry added in explanation. 'He won't be happy if he wakes to find himself in a strange house but it's important he doesn't see anything magical – including any of the boy's toys. I've locked the bedroom door though, so it shouldn't be a problem.'

'Kreacher must not go to Professor Snape,' the Elf repeated. 'Master Snape must not see any magic.'

'Thanks Kreacher.'

He was relieved Kreacher understood the orders – as bizarre as they may have seemed.

'Albus,' Harry called, gesturing for his son to come to him. 'I'm going to Hogwarts for a bit. Kreacher's going to look after you, alright? You know the rules – Kreacher is in charge.'

The little boy nodded, he was used to Kreacher looking after him at home.

'Bye-bye,' he said, giving his father a quick hug before racing back to his toy broomstick.

Harry smiled bemusedly at the quick dismissal before turning back to Kreacher.

'Keep an eye on Al,' he said, standing to leave. 'I'll be back as soon as I can.'

With that Harry let himself out, turning on the spot as he did so. Within moments he had reappeared beneath the winged boar gates of Hogwarts. Wrapping his cloak tightly about himself, he applied a disillusionment charm before starting the long trek up to the school.

XXXX

Hogwarts stood proudly before him – restored to its former glory after countless hours of work by witches, wizards and House Elves alike. Quietly Harry slipped inside the Entrance Hall. As always he paused on the threshold as he read the names of the fallen. A small fountain had been set beneath the base of the wall. _For all those who gave their lives; we remember._ Above the fountain the names had been engraved. Even now Harry found the list too long.

The sound of hundreds of voices issuing from the Great Hall reminded Harry that it was dinner time. He glanced fondly towards the doorway, where warm light was spilling outwards. Smirking he watched as a few Gryffindor rubies flew back into the top of the hour glass, marking a student's misdeeds. Turning his back to the light he passed the fountain and made his way up to the third floor. If he was lucky he'd catch Poppy before she left for dinner.

Entering the Wing he walked confidently towards her office but stopped abruptly as the office door opened and Poppy walked directly into him. Harry steadied her as she gasped in alarm, reminding Harry that he was still invisible. Quickly removing his disillusionment charm, Harry stepped back so that Poppy could see him.

'Merlin Harry,' she exclaimed, cuffing him over the head none to gently. 'If you ever startle me like that again...'

Harry laughed at her flabbergasted expression.

'I'm sorry,' he said genuinely, although the effect was ruined by his broad smile. 'I forgot I was still invisible. Didn't want to distract the students from their work,' he added cheekily at Poppy's disapproving look.

'And just what would bring the great Harry Potter to my humble doorstep this evening?' she asked sarcastically, smirking slightly at Harry's indignant expression.

Harry's expression became serious.

'Severus Snape.'

'What?'

She was studying him as though he'd gone mad. Poppy was well aware of Harry's determination to find Severus but after ten years she had long ago accepted that Severus was dead. It was something she truly regretted about the War: the fact that she had never been able to apologise.

Poppy had been his Healer for most of his life. She had treated his cuts and bruises and the occasional broken bone as a first year, all the time worrying just how the young boy managed to injure himself so often. Half the time she suspected he only ever came to her when Lily Evans dragged him in. Eventually he had stopped coming and Poppy had wondered what had caused the young boy to become so bitter so early in life. He'd graduated and Poppy had forgotten him. But he'd wandered back into her life as a staff member and then she had truly had her work cut out.

She only ever saw him when Albus found him unconscious by the school gates but she knew without a doubt that he was suffering – and terribly – under He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. As colleagues they had formed a rapport. Severus had an extraordinary talent for Potions and he and Poppy would often debate the finer arts of Healing. As the years passed they had become almost friends – or as close to as you could be with Severus Snape. But that had all ended the night Harry had told them all that Severus Snape had murdered Albus Dumbledore.

That final year at Hogwarts had been the most trying year of Poppy's life. Gone was the young man who would spend hours debating with her. He had been replaced instead with a cold-hearted and harsh man. Minerva had barely tolerated Severus as Headmaster. She had been constantly rebellious, forcing Severus to act ruthlessly to maintain his authority. But Poppy had watched him. Her colleague was gone but the patient remained. She had watched from the shadows as he grew gaunter and wearier with every passing day. He barely ate and she knew he did not sleep. She had once caught him in the corridors close to 3am. It was the only time she'd caught a glimmer of her old colleague that year. She'd challenged him.

'_What are you doing?' she had asked suspiciously._

_He was uneasy she'd realised. Something had happened that night which had unnerved him, for he couldn't quite hide how much her tone hurt him. He'd smiled bitterly at her question. _

'_My duty_,' _he'd answered simply and then almost as an afterthought he'd added, 'someone has to protect them...'_

Days later she'd convinced herself that she'd imagined that last whisper...but knowing the truth now she knew how wrong she had been about Severus. Still she hadn't quite been able to shake the memory and so she had watched Severus more closely – but only as his Healer.

Severus had been the most infuriating patient she had ever had but she'd always had his interests at heart. In fact the only patient who had ever come as close to driving her mad was the young man who stood before her. And now Harry was here, telling her that he had found Severus Snape. Suddenly she felt the need to sit down.

Harry had been watching Poppy closely. The name had shocked her he could see and it seemed she was deeply lost in thought. Now though it looked as though she might faint. Hastily summoning a chair, Harry silently guided the surprised Medi-witch into a chair.

'I've found him,' he said quietly as Poppy finally seemed to remember he was in the room with her.

He could barely keep the grin off his face and he knew by that alone Poppy believed him.

'But where has he been?' she asked shakily, summoning a glass of water for herself.

Harry frowned uncomfortably at her question. It was going to be tricky to explain but he could only hope that Madam Pomfrey would be able to help Snape. Seeing that his expression was causing Poppy unnecessary alarm he hurried to answer.

'This is hard to explain,' he admitted. 'Perhaps I better start at the beginning...'

Poppy listened quietly to his explanation of his day, interrupting only once to scold him for not telling her the moment he'd arrived that Ginny had given birth.

'So, John Smith has no idea who he is?' Poppy mused quietly as Harry finished his explanation.

'None,' Harry admitted ruefully. 'There's nothing to suggest Snape has any idea about the Wizarding world or his place in it.'

'Exactly how did you get Severus to go with you?' Poppy asked suddenly, her tone suspicious.

'Err –,' Harry began.

Poppy raised an eyebrow at Harry's sudden incoherence. Sighing Harry prepared himself for the backlash he knew was coming.

'I _may_ have stunned him,' he mumbled, studying the floor intently.

'You mean you abducted him!' Poppy shrieked. 'What exactly possessed you _Harry_. _James_. _Potter._' – She punctuated his name with three deliberate and quite painful pokes – 'to stun an amnesiac man who has no idea _who_ you are or _what _you are! He doesn't even know his name Harry!' she shouted in exasperation.

'I know, I know,' Harry said ashamedly. 'I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking!'

'That's obvious!' snorted Poppy, although she seemed to have calmed down somewhat.

'You know what he's like,' Harry continued, 'didn't believe a thing I was saying – demanded answers almost immediately. There was no way I could have convinced him to come with me without him doing something drastic. Besides his magic is unstable and out of _his_ control. I don't think he even realises what he's been doing and might I remind you we were surrounded by muggles – whose memories I'd already modified once today. You _know_ what accidental magic is like – the minute you get emotional your magic leaps to your defence!'

Poppy sighed as she took in Harry's defensive position. She knew he'd acted with Severus' best interests at heart but sometimes she wondered at his impulsive nature.

'Alright,' she said calmly. 'What did you have in mind?'

'He needs to be assessed,' Harry said calmly, switching into his professional mode with ease. 'Physically and mentally. He also needs to be told about the Wizarding world – which is where you come in. I'd appreciate having you present to act as a mediator when I speak with him. It's likely that he will react hostilely towards me. Besides I'd like your advice on how much to tell him.'

'That sounds reasonable,' Poppy agreed. 'You said he's been going as John Smith since his disappearance?'

Harry nodded.

'Very well, it would be best if you _only_ address him as John or Mr Smith for now,' she instructed. 'Until I can assess the memory damage we need to keep things familiar for him. Unless he has memories of Severus Snape or it seems likely that he will regain that identity it would be best if we didn't question his identity any further. The mind is incredibly complex Harry,' she added at Harry's slightly crestfallen look, 'there's no saying what damage has occurred but regardless of the outcome of today, this man is _not_ the Severus Snape we knew.'

Harry nodded, accepting Poppy's logic. He watched as the Medi-witch gathered a few potions together into a small bag before turning and looking expectantly towards Harry.

'Shall we?' she asked, preceding Harry out of the Hospital Wing.

'I just hope he hasn't woken up,' Harry muttered to himself before following Madam Pomfrey.

XXXX

John opened his eyes slowly as consciousness returned to him. The last thing he remembered was the odd young man grabbing him as he collapsed for no apparent reason. Groggily he took in his surroundings, realising immediately that he was in an unfamiliar room. Automatically he sat up – wincing as he did so. He'd forgotten his injured chest. Carefully he pulled himself into a sitting position on the edge of the bed, noticing in the process that his hands had been freed from the painful handcuffs. Bruises were starting to form where the cuffs had been too tight. Uneasily he stood, massaging his wrists as he assessed his surroundings without conscious thought. John had realised early on that it was an automatic habit that must have meant something to him before his accident. Now though, it meant nothing.

The room seemed normal enough although it was sparsely furnished. Still a feeling of trepidation filled John as he realised the man, who'd claimed to know him, had taken him against his will to an unknown location. Crossing to the door John rattled the handle but it did not budge. He was locked in.

The man might have removed his handcuffs but as far as John could tell he was being held captive. Crossing to the window, he looked out. It was clear the moment he looked out that he was no longer in London. As far as John could tell there were no houses within the vicinity. It seemed he had been removed to a completely remote area. With that realisation John wanted to get out. Some long forgotten instinct was telling him that it was not good for him to be captured. That he needed to find a way out – and fast.

Acting on instinct John tried the window. It was sealed, and on proper inspection he realised he was three floors up. _Too high to risk jumping_, he thought. He scanned the room, looking for something he could use but the room was infuriatingly bare. John crouched in the middle of the room as he felt his chest begin to tighten and his breathing rate increase. It was something that happened when he found himself in unfamiliar or dangerous situations – at times when he was scared or angry. He seemed to have no control over the anxiety and so he had developed the habit of crouching, to help himself calm down. If he managed to get his breathing under control, it would be fine. _If not_... he tried not to think about that. The last time he had lost control had been this morning.

He'd not slept well the previous evening. His dreams had been plagued by nameless faces and impossible actions. Many of his nightmares ended with a flash of green light as he watched a faceless man fall from a tower. Last night had been one of his worst. He'd woken after watching the faceless man fall, shivering and sweating profusely. He'd tried to grab the man but as always he'd fallen. In the end he'd given up trying to sleep and had instead spent the early hours of the morning pacing restlessly around his small flat.

His lack of sleep had caught up with him at work and colleagues and customers alike had been unimpressed with his scathing remarks and biting retorts. At lunch time his boss had sent him home with an ultimatum. _You need to work your shit out John. You have the rest of the day to deal with whatever the hell has gotten into you. If you can't work it out don't bother showing up tomorrow._

John had been so annoyed at himself that he'd stormed out of _Boots Pharmacy_ without a backward look. The worst of it was that he couldn't blame his boss for kicking him out – he'd have done the same.

Stupidly he'd made the mistake of using a few back alleys, as a shortcut, on his way home. It had been in one of the more unsavoury alleys that he'd picked up his tail. The two kids were wearing hoodies and John did not doubt that they would be carrying knives. He'd quickened his pace; taking the next left which he knew would take him out onto a high road. He had almost made it to the street when two figures had detached themselves from the entrance to the alley and John had found himself surrounded by four thugs. The biggest brute had kicked him behind the knees – forcing him to stumble. A particularly nasty looking wimp of a boy had then delivered a vicious kick straight to his ribs which had left him gasping for air in the mud. Some passerby had called out a warning to the thugs at that point but it hadn't stopped one of the kids from driving a fist into John's face.

In that moment several things had happened – none of which really made sense to John. All he really remembered was the feeling of his nose busting and blood flowing straight into his open mouth, causing him to choke before he got his breathing under control. Vaguely he'd been aware of two men in the distance running forwards to assist him but by the time they'd reached him the thugs had disappeared from his line of sight. It was only when he'd seen the wary look in his would-be-saviours eyes that he realised something strange had happened – that he'd lost control. He'd wanted to make a hasty escape but the two men had stopped him and John had ended up in his current predicament.

Crouched on the floor John's breathing rate was getting out of control. He needed to calm down but he couldn't. He was tired, his ribs ached and he was beyond frustrated. He needed to leave this house. Before John knew what he was doing he was approaching the door. Roughly he pulled down on the handle and to his utmost surprise the door yielded. John had expected the door to still be locked and hadn't been prepared for the sudden loss of resistance. He stumbled slightly as he indignantly fell out of the room and into the corridor.

Quickly he picked himself up before silently making his way to the staircase. There were several other rooms but all of them were open and empty as John passed them. Several looked as though they were bedrooms for small children. Stealthily he made his way down to the next floor; he wanted to find out as much as he could about the young man if he could.

It seemed as though the house was deserted though John thought as he finished checking the second floor. Most of the rooms had been locked on this floor and the ones that weren't had yielded nothing of interest.

Reaching the ground floor John stopped dead at the sound of a child laughing. Frowning slightly he moved towards the slightly ajar door that stood to his left. Pushing it open he stared in surprise at the sight of a two year old boy playing by himself. The boy looked up as he heard John enter and he realised with a start that the child was the son of his captor. The resemblance was uncanny; down to the familiar green eyes. Once again John felt his heart clench at the sight of them.

'Hello,' the boy said, staring curiously at John.

'Hello,' he replied automatically, his voice sounding rather weak.

'Your daddy's friend,' the child supplied, before turning back to his toy train.

John wondered if he'd perhaps misjudged the young man. It seemed unlikely that he bore him any ill will if he'd left his own son in the house with John. Still he couldn't help but wonder what sort of imbecile left a two year old alone in a house. John looked longingly towards the front door – this was his chance to escape. Some instinct held him in place though. There was something about the young man that stopped him from leaving. He knew this man – he was sure of it. And that was enough to keep him there because John Smith had never been sure of anything in his life.

Resigning himself to babysitting duty he moved towards the comfortable sofa and sat down. The little boy looked over at him curiously once more.

'Creature gone!' he said sadly, or that's what it sounded like to John.

He wondered vaguely what 'creature' was. As the sky's darkened outside John looked around for a light switch.

'What is wrong with this house? Where's the blasted light switch?' he exclaimed in exasperation as his search proved futile.

At his words the lights flickered to life. John jumped. _Perhaps the lights are on a timer_, he thought to himself. He knew it was a weak excuse though. Reseating himself he scowled as the little boy approached him.

'Where Daddy?' the child asked, leaning against John's legs, a picture book clutched in one hand.

Awkwardly John shifted the child away from him. He had no experience with young children and had no desire to start now.

'Story?' the boy asked hopefully, pulling himself up onto the couch beside John.

John tried to ignore him as the little boy attempted to sit next to him – and then to John's horror the child tried to climb into his lap.

'No,' he said gruffly, pushing the boy away from him.

He tried to ignore the child but the boy was oddly persistent, his green eyes fixed on John and filled with hope. Eventually John let out an exasperated sigh. For some reason he found it impossible to ignore the boy's beseeching expression. It was the blasted eyes, he realised.

'Fine,' he grouched, letting the boy move into his lap.

Picking up the picture book John opened it and began to read in a methodical voice.

XXXX

Harry walked up the path to his cottage, Poppy following him quietly. The light was on in the living room he noted.

'I'll just check on Al quickly,' he called over his shoulder as he waved his wand at the front door.

'You left Albus here alone!' Poppy exclaimed in alarm.

'No, no,' Harry said quickly. 'Kreacher's with him.'

'Merlin Harry,' Poppy muttered, 'sometimes I wonder about you.'

Harry shot her an impish grin as he divested himself of his heavy cloak. He paused though as the sound of a long-forgotten voice drifted towards him. It was coming from the living room, the door being slightly ajar. Poppy's sharp intake of breath behind him told him that she had recognised the voice also. Sharing a startled look with Poppy he approached the door confidently. Pushing the door open, he stared in shock at the sight before him.

Severus Snape was seated on his couch with Albus curled up on his lap. The most bizarre aspect of the scene though was the child's story book held loosely in Snape's hands and from which he was clearly reading aloud from, in a calm and melodic voice. Harry's eyebrows shot upwards as he realised Al was fiddling with Severus' thumbs, much as he did when Harry read him a book.

Albus was the first to notice them.

'Daddy!' his son cried excitedly, before expertly extracting himself from Snape's lap.

Harry was quick to mask his surprise, instead presenting a neutral expression as Snape himself looked towards the doorway. Harry watched a myriad of expressions flit across Snape's face as Al hurried towards him. Embarrassment, anger, fear and curiosity were prominent but the man expertly replaced them with a well-practiced blank mask before Harry could look more deeply. Disconcertingly for Harry, Snape's gaze was blank. The hatred which had so often been directed towards him was absent.

His watching was interrupted though as Albus wrapped his arms around Harry's legs. Automatically Harry stooped to pick up his son, not hesitating to plant several kisses on the boy's cheek, much to Al's amusement. Putting his son down Harry knelt before him.

'You hungry Al?' he asked ruffling the boy's messy dark hair.

Al nodded enthusiastically and Harry hid a smile. Al's enthusiasm for food reminded him of Ron Weasley.

'Run along to the kitchen,' he said gently. 'Kreacher will get you something to eat and I'll come join you later, alright?'

Al nodded before turning back to Snape.

'Bye-bye daddy's friend,' he said with childlike innocence before racing out of the living room.

Harry watched his son out of the room before standing back up, smoothing out the creases in his shirt.

'You are a singularly irresponsible parent,' came the soft sneer.

Harry looked up in confusion to find Snape gazing at him coldly.

'How so?' Harry asked politely.

Harry's question earned a disbelieving scoff from Snape before the man replied.

'What sort of imbecile leaves a toddler at home, alone?'

Harry was surprised by the anger behind Snape's question.

'He wasn't alone,' Harry said icily, annoyed at what Snape was insinuating. 'And I don't mean you,' he added when Snape looked like he wished to say more.

'Harry,' Poppy said warningly from beside him, giving his arm a brief squeeze.

'Sorry,' he muttered under his breath. 'I didn't think he'd be awake yet.'

Raising his voice he addressed Snape, who was staring at them in annoyance, obviously aware that they were talking about him.

'My apologies if Albus annoyed you,' he said succinctly. 'I did not think you would wake before I returned.'

'Why have you brought me here?' Snape demanded, ignoring Harry's apology.

'It was not my intention to...take you against your will,' Harry answered uncomfortably, earning a disbelieving snort from Snape.

'Yet you locked me in,' Snape sneered.

'I did not wish for Albus to bother you, that is all,' Harry replied honestly, frowning slightly at Snape's accusatory tone.

Snape said nothing more and so Harry continued.

'It was not possible to answer your questions where we were,' he said honestly. 'This situation is complicated and I ask only that you bear with me for the moment. I promise you that I mean you no harm whatsoever. Perhaps we could start over?' Harry suggested.

Snape seemed to consider his words but Harry could tell the man was desperate to learn more. Finally he nodded. Stepping forward Harry offered his hand to Snape.

'Harry Potter.'

'John Smith,' Snape replied automatically, grasping Harry's hand in a firm grip.

It was odd hearing Snape introduce himself with such a Muggle name but Harry kept his expression neutral – although he could see Snape himself seemed uncomfortable with his name. It seemed he had recalled Harry's assertion that John Smith was not the name he knew him by. Quickly Harry moved to introduce Poppy, hoping to smooth over the awkwardness.

'Might I introduce Poppy Pomfrey?' Harry said easily. 'She's a friend and someone who I think can help you John.'

Snape studied Poppy with undisguised curiosity. Harry realised belatedly that Poppy was wearing slightly more Wizarding style clothing, which undoubtedly appeared strange to Snape.

'A pleasure to meet you John,' Poppy said calmly, offering her hand to Snape also but he did not take it.

He was looking between Harry and Poppy now with great apprehension, as though he were a deer caught in headlights. His curiosity had been replaced with suspicion.

'What is this about?' he demanded angrily.

Harry realised that the situation was quickly escalating out of control.

'Calm down John,' Harry said quietly. 'I gave you my word that no harm would come to you here. But you need to calm yourself.'

Snape was sweating now, and Harry could see he was panicking. Suddenly the man dropped to his knees, attempting to slow his breathing. Automatically Harry went to move forward to assist him, but Poppy held him back, shaking her head slightly.

'Do not interfere, Harry,' she whispered urgently. 'He needs to learn to control this himself.'

But it was too late. The living room was plunged into darkness as Snape's accidental magic took out the lights. Harry and Poppy remained where they were, not wishing to startle Snape. Harry listened as slowly Snape's laboured breaths eased. By the time Snape was breathing normally Harry's vision had acclimatised to the darkness and he could see Snape had pushed himself up against the couch. The man's head was slumped forward, his hands pulling at his short hair and his legs pulled up tightly against his body. It was a position that spoke of hopelessness and defeat.

With a wave of his wand Harry flicked the lights back on. Snape did not seem to notice though.

'John,' Poppy said softly, moving past Harry to squat beside Snape. 'Perhaps you'd be more comfortable on the couch.'

Snape made no response – it was as though he had not heard her. Harry shared an uneasy look with Poppy. This was a side to Snape neither of them had ever experienced, or in Harry's case expected.

'No harm done John,' Poppy said softly. 'Why don't you sit up?'

This time Snape seemed to hear her.

'It was just an accident, but Harry's fixed it.'

Snape's blank gaze flickered toward Harry for a moment before slowly the man pushed himself up onto the couch. He leaned forward, resting his head in his hands, his gaze fixed on the floor.

Harry studied Poppy for a moment. It was obvious that she was anxious to exam Severus but Harry knew Snape would need to have a basic understanding of magic before that. It was not how Harry had planned to discuss this with Snape but he had to remember that this was not the same Snape who had been his Potions Master. Harry moved to sit opposite Snape, gesturing for Poppy to follow his lead.

'How often has this happened John?' he asked gently.

Harry let the silence draw out as he waited for Snape to answer. He knew he would answer eventually, Snape had been too curious that afternoon to refuse the chance of an explanation. The incident with the lights had clearly shaken Snape. He didn't understand what was happening around him but Harry could tell he wanted to know.

'It's been getting worse,' Snape said hoarsely, still studying the floor intently. 'I don't know when it first started...probably years ago. It used to be just little things – I'd drop a cup and it wouldn't shatter; doors I thought were locked were suddenly unlocked; I'd trip but I wouldn't fall. I could put them all down to luck, I could ignore them,' he admitted.

Harry nodded, although Snape wasn't looking at him. They were all typical acts of accidental magic.

'Go on,' Harry prompted.

Snape was silent for a moment before he finally looked up to meet Harry's gaze.

'A few years ago,' Snape continued, 'I was doing an odd job – replacing some tiles on a roof. I was 28ft off the ground. One of the tiles gave out from beneath me and I slipped off. I fell 28ft and I was fine. That's when I knew I couldn't ignore it anymore. Eventually I realised it happened when I was angry or...upset,' he muttered uneasily. 'I learnt that if I could try and keep control it didn't happen. I was doing fine...until today,' he finished.

'What happened today?' Harry asked calmly.

'I lost control,' Snape snapped.

Harry could tell the man was mistakenly angry with himself. It was time he learnt the truth.

'There's nothing wrong with you John,' he began slowly. 'What you are experiencing is not abnormal, nor is it something to be feared. It seems dangerous and uncontrollable at the moment – but that is because you have forgotten who you are. You have forgotten _what_ you are.'

'What are you saying?' Snape asked uneasily.

'You're a wizard John,' Harry said simply.

For a moment Snape sat in stunned silence. It was the first time Harry had ever seen Snape speechless, but it did not last long. The mask was reforming, an ugly sneer spreading across Snape's face. He stood abruptly, Harry mirroring his movements.

'You _think_ this is funny!' the man roared, spittle flying from his lips, as he grabbed Harry by the collar.

'No,' Harry said simply, staring determinedly at Snape.

Harry's tone seemed to check Snape's rage and the man paused, although he did not release Harry.

'I'm not lying John,' Harry said resolutely. 'You're a wizard. As am I'

Something in Harry's expression must have meant something to Snape because the man released him before slowly reseating himself. Harry watched as Snape ran his hands through his hair distractedly.

'Then the things that have been happening to me...'

'They are episodes of accidental magic,' Harry explained. 'When you are feeling particularly emotional or at times when your life is at risk, your magic will automatically respond. Normally it only occurs in children, particularly those without wands or those who have not yet learnt to control their magic. It is unusual for adults to release unintentional magic but it is not unheard of. In your case, your amnesia is the obvious cause.'

Snape seemed to be following Harry's explanation but he could tell that the man had numerous questions. Silence fell over the trio as Harry waited for Snape to digest the information he had provided so far. Finally Snape looked up, fixing Harry with an intense gaze.

'Who am I?' he asked simply.

'Severus Snape.'

XXXX

The name seemed to echo in the silence of the room. Distantly some part of John Smith recognised the name, but it was not enough. John had been sure that remembering his name would bring back his memories and unlock his past. But he still felt like John Smith.

'There is still much to be discussed John,' Potter was saying. 'I know you have questions and I will answer them, but I think it would be best if you saw Madam Pomfrey now. She's a Healer.'

John nodded automatically, ignoring the pair as they discussed which room the Healer could use.

A hand was on his shoulder.

'John?' the woman asked kindly. 'Would you follow me?'

Standing, John was led back upstairs to the room he'd woken up in.

'If it makes you more comfortable John, I've been your Healer since you were eleven,' she said kindly.

The way she was studying him so familiarly, John did not doubt her. He had had little interaction with doctors in the past few years. Early on after his accident he had been surrounded by medical staff but all of them had let him down. The worst had been when a young doctor had referred him to a psychiatrist after his nightmares had disturbed the other patients on the ward. John had refused to talk to the psychiatrist and in the end the woman had given up. John discharged himself three days later and never came back.

'Just lie back on the bed,' Poppy instructed.

John was surprised to find the comfortable bed had been replaced with a hospital-style bed. Reluctantly he lay down, hating the feeling of exposure.

'I'm just going to run a diagnostic spell. You won't feel anything.'

John watched with wide eyes as Poppy withdrew a long thin stick of wood, which John realised was her wand, from an inner pocket and waved it in a fluid motion towards him. A blue light was produced and John watched curiously as the light scanned him from head to toe. Looking back over at Madam Pomfrey, he saw that the Healer was frowning slightly at a piece of parchment that had materialised in her hand.

'Could you remove your shirt please?'

John hesitated for a moment. He did not know this woman. Still something about her encouraged him to trust her and slowly he reached up to undo the buttons of his shirt. Madam Pomfrey stepped forward as he finished, deliberately pulling his shirt apart to study his right side. It was only now that John recalled he'd been kicked there and that even now it was still quite painful. Looking down, he noted with surprise that his right side was a wash of coloured bruises.

'Hmph!'

John realised the Healer looked somewhat put out as she marched over to her bag before returning with several salves and bottles.

'Honestly Severus,' Poppy exclaimed, not seeming to notice her slip. 'How many times do I have to tell you that it is _important_ that you seek medical attention if you require it? You cannot simply waltz around with a broken rib. It is irresponsible for one thing and stupid for another. You are far _too_ stubborn for your own good, young man. You and Harry both need to learn that it is not appropriate to treat your own injuries. Nor is it acceptable to hide them!'

John started at the sudden use of his _other _name. It seemed this woman really did know him well. Apparently he had been avoiding her treatment for years, he thought amusedly to himself. As had Harry Potter. He wondered at that but some long lost instinct reminded him that it was best if he apologised profusely to Poppy _before_ she got carried away.

'My apologies Madam Pomfrey,' he said sincerely, although it sounded rather pompous. 'With everything that has happened in the last few hours I'd forgotten about it.'

'Hmph! I shall be having a word with Harry about this, he should have thought to check for injuries,' she muttered under her breath but she seemed to accept his apology.

John watched with interest as she smoothed an intriguing concoction across his right side. She had already given him a pain relief potion – which had worked immediately, much to his amazement – and she had muttered some spell which John was sure had healed the broken rib, although that had been rather uncomfortable. The salve she was applying now was electric blue and was incredibly cool and soothing.

'It's just Poppy by the way,' Madam Pomfrey said as she worked. 'You haven't called me Madam Pomfrey since you left school.'

'Oh right,' John said uneasily.

He was uncomfortable with using people's first names unless he knew them well. He supposed it was alright with Poppy, she seemed to know him quite well. Poppy finished her task and John noticed that her eyes had been drawn to the scars.

'Do you know how I got these?' he asked determinedly.

There were two scars about 4inches apart, 7inches long. One started above his left collarbone and ran to just above his left nipple. The other was below his left collarbone, just near his shoulder socket and ran to under his left arm, halfway down his ribs. A third scar ran between the two. It had been done during surgery to stabilise the two wounds he'd presented with. The whole thing looked like a lopsided 'H' that someone had carved messily into his left side. John noticed that Poppy had paled considerably at the sight of the scars. _She knows_...he thought but she did not answer his question.

'What did the Muggles think had happened?' Poppy asked instead.

'Muggles?' John queried, with a confused look.

'Oh sorry,' Poppy gushed. 'Muggle is the Wizarding term for non-magical persons.'

'Right...'

He supposed it made sense to distinguish between the two worlds.

'The doctors thought I'd been mauled by some kind of animal,' he admitted after a moment's pause. 'They found the wounds strange though. When I was brought in, they were sure I wouldn't survive the night – not with a wound in the neck. They rushed me into emergency surgery which is when they discovered that the wound was partially healed. Although the rest of the wound was deep and the surrounding tissue was extensively damaged somehow my jugular veins and carotid arteries were still intact. I survived the surgery although the wound healed slowly and the stitches would often dissolve prematurely.'

'Would you mind if Harry came in to see this?' Poppy asked.

John scowled. He wasn't particularly interested in having people gawk at his neck.

'Does _he_ know how it happened?' he snapped sarcastically.

Much to his surprise Poppy simply nodded before disappearing out of the room. John sat in surprised silence as he tried to understand how the young man would know. The wounds were ten years old and Harry Potter couldn't be much more than thirty...His thoughts were interrupted by low voices outside the door.

' – _I'm not surprised the stitches dissolved. Same thing happened to Arthur – '_

' – _muggles would have given him blood I imagine, to counteract the bleeding – '_

' – _probably saved his life by diluting the venom –'_

Finally the door opened to reveal Poppy, followed closely by Harry Potter. John's first thought was that Potter didn't seem surprised by the wound, in fact it almost seemed as though the man had been expecting it. He watched as the man seemed to stare past the wound, as though he was lost in a memory but he snapped out of it quickly. The professional mask was back in place, but John thought he seemed shaken.

'The doctors assumed the wound was caused by some animal, yes?' Harry asked.

John nodded, and the man continued.

'They were not wrong,' he said simply. 'The wound was inflicted by a snake.'

'A snake?' John asked, unable to hide his disbelief.

'You forget that in the magical world, not all things are as they seem,' Harry said kindly, giving John a knowing look.

'The snake that attacked you was roughly twelve foot long and as thick as a man's thigh,' Harry explained. 'She was particularly intelligent, highly venomous and well...I'll explain the rest to you another day. Suffice it to say that you had rather enraged her...' Harry broke off searching for a word.

'Master?' Poppy suggested.

'I suppose that fits as well as anything,' Harry agreed before continuing. 'You had enraged her master and in an attempt to kill you he set Nagini – the snake – upon you.'

John was struggling to comprehend the new information. A man who owned a deadly snake had attempted to _kill_ him – to kill Severus Snape. He wondered briefly just what he had done but he pushed the thought aside, determined to learn more.

'And how do you know all this?' he asked scornfully.

'I was there,' Harry said simply.

Harry's answer threw John for a moment. He hadn't been told enough yet to understand the importance of Harry's words.

'Why?' he asked, noticing that Harry seemed uncomfortable about answering.

'Look,' Harry said, 'this is complex...'

'Save your excuses,' John cut in coldly. 'Answer me this. If you knew me, as you have claimed...if you watched this attack happen...if I belong to this 'Wizarding world',' he was standing now as he shouted, pointing accusingly at Harry. 'Then why the _hell_ was I left to rot for ten years? _Ten years,_ Potter. I don't even know who I AM! Can you understand that! Do you have any idea what it is like to wake up in a world full of strangers with no idea who you are? And no one. Not one _sodding_ bastard can tell you your name.'

He was breathing heavily, staring with deranged anger at the calm face of Harry Potter. For a moment there seemed to be a flicker of understanding in the man's eyes but it was gone before John was sure; replaced instead with a blank expression, as Harry waited for John to finish.

'Answer me Potter,' he growled. 'Why? Why has no one bothered to look for _Severus Snape_.'

He spat his own name out with distaste but for the first time since he'd begun shouting at Potter his words seemed to cause a response. Potter was studying him incredulously and suddenly John could tell the man's own temper had flared in response to his own.

'You were dead Snape,' Potter spat bitterly.

_Dead_...the word cut at John. Vaguely he realised some distant part of himself was accepting the man's explanation. _Why would anyone look for a dead man?_

'I _watched _you die!' Potter continued, oblivious to John's shock. 'Do you know what that was like! After everything..._everything_ that had happened I didn't really want you to die. Not like that.'

Potter turned abruptly on his heel and stalked out of the room, slamming the door as he left, leaving a bewildered John and a troubled Poppy in his wake.

'Harry never stopped looking for you,' Poppy said softly into the silence.

John looked over at her in surprise.

'Why?' he asked frowning. 'He thought I was dead,' he added bluntly.

'That is something you will have to ask Harry,' Poppy said simply, gesturing for John to resume his seat on the bed.

XXXX

Potter was slouched on the couch in the living room when John and Poppy came downstairs. John paused in the doorway watching as the man made multi-coloured bubbles appear from his wand, much to the delight of his laughing son. Potter looked up as Poppy pushed John ahead of her into the room. It seemed he had calmed down considerably because he offered a smile to the pair before turning back to his son.

'Sorry Al, we'll finish later,' he said, much to his son's disappointment.

Picking Albus up, Harry placed him on the couch next to him, handing the boy a stack of picture books to look through before turning expectantly towards Poppy.

'I took the liberty of explaining a bit more of Severus' history to John and explained as much of the Wizarding world to him as I could,' she said brusquely as she seated herself opposite Harry.

John noticed that Potter seemed exceedingly thankful for Poppy's intervention. There was a lot he still didn't know but Poppy had provided John with a brief history of his life prior to his disappearance from the Wizarding world.

Severus Snape had been Potion's Master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry since the age of twenty, he'd learnt. Hogwarts was the school he had attended as a child and he had been sorted into Slytherin House. Later the Headmaster – Albus Dumbledore – had appointed him Head of Slytherin. John got the distinct impression though that Poppy had been deliberately light on with details as she had spent most of the time discussing John's work as Potions Master, much to his annoyance. As to his injury, Poppy had told him only that Nagini's master had been a 'Lord Voldemort' and had left it at that. Whoever 'Lord Voldemort' had been Poppy had not wished to discuss him. Despite his persistent questioning, Poppy had feigned ignorance as to why Voldemort had wished to kill him.

His thoughts were interrupted though as Harry Potter approached him.

'You're right John,' he said sincerely. 'I have no idea what it would have been like for you. I'm sorry for my behaviour.'

John hid his surprise well, but nevertheless grasped the proffered hand to accept the man's apology.

'Why did you search for me?' he asked as he seated himself next to Poppy.

The question seemed to amuse Harry somewhat, as his lip curled slightly.

'There was no body,' Harry replied, seating himself again. 'There was no reason to assume you were dead.'

John frowned at his explanation.

'The rest of the Wizarding world was content to believe that I had died,' he said neutrally. 'But not you...'

'If you must know,' Harry began, 'Albus Dumbledore's portrait – among other things – gave me the impression that without a body it was highly likely that you were still alive somewhere. But as with all things concerning Albus Dumbledore nothing is ever what it seems,' Harry finished cryptically before turning to Madam Pomfrey.

'The amnesia...'

'There is no evidence to suggest that he has been Obliviated. I searched extensively Harry, but I could find no trace of the memories, which is unusual. It is as though they have been removed completely.'

John listened disinterestedly. Poppy had already explained this to him. She had told him that all magic left traces, even memory spells. As such if his amnesia had been the result of a spell or curse, fragments of memories would have been present– but she had found nothing. It was frustrating. Since learning of the magical world, John had been sure that he would finally regain his memories – but it seemed even here there were no answers for him.

'Is it possible that he is repressing the memories?' Harry asked.

John noted with suspicion that Potter didn't seem particularly surprised by Madam Pomfrey's findings.

'If he were,' Poppy said unsurely, glancing over at John, 'I would not be able to discern the location of the memories. Repressed memories are normally impossible to find,' she added for John's benefit. 'It is like searching for a needle in a haystack; harder still because your mind is actively hiding the 'entrance' to the memories – so to speak. Significant memories are hidden separately in the mind. Releasing one would not guarantee the return of all memories. You would need a skilled Legilimens to act as a guide,' she looked towards Harry as she said this. 'But even if that were possible Harry, it would need a trigger,' she added significantly.

John looked over to see Potter studying him quietly.

'I believe I have one,' Harry said gravely, not taking his eyes off John.

Slowly he withdrew a small vial from an inner pocket. John heard Poppy gasp beside him. He looked curiously at the contents. They were silver and seemed to be swirling slowly inside the container.

'I did not want to get your hopes up,' Harry said softly, looking beseechingly at Poppy, 'which is why I didn't tell you earlier. Would it work?'

'Yes,' Poppy breathed out. 'I think so. I can't say for sure...nothing like this has ever been reported before.'

'What is that?' John asked quietly, his gaze fixed on the small vial in Potter's hand.

'Memories,' answered Harry. 'Your memories.'

John didn't even question the impossibility of tangible memories. His heart clenched as he realised that the vial held the answers to his life...

A hand grasped his upper arm lightly, preventing him from standing.

'They are not all of your memories John,' Poppy said softly. 'You cannot restore your memories with these alone. You need Harry to guide you. '

He let out a tense breath, calming himself.

'If there's a chance I can get my memories back...' he trailed off.

'There's more than a chance,' Harry said surely. 'But we can talk more –'

Harry trailed off as John registered the sound of a distant fire roaring to life.

'HARRY!' a man called out.

'In the living room Ron,' Harry answered.

'Blimey Harry,' the man named Ron continued, his voice growing louder. 'If you don't get back to the hospital Ginny is going to _kill_ me.' John looked over at Harry in confusion and noticed that the man looked alarmed. The door opened and John turned to find a tall red-headed man entering the room. 'I mean _I've_ spent more time with your _newborn_ daughter...'

The newcomer stopped talking as he caught sight of the living room occupants. _Newborn daughter_...John thought, looking towards Harry in confusion. Surely the man hadn't spent half his day here when his wife had clearly just given birth.

'Uncle Ron!' Albus cried excitedly, breaking the awkward silence of the adults as he jumped up to greet the red-head.

The man automatically picked up the toddler but John could see he was in shock.

'Harry...' he said weakly. 'Tell me that's not Snape.'

John sneered at the man's rudeness, which seemed to only alarm the man further.

'Err – yeah it is,' Potter said sheepishly, standing up.

The sound of the distant fireplace once more roaring to life stopped Harry in his tracks.

'POTTER!'

John watched with amusement as both Potter and the red-head paled considerably.

'You didn't –'

'She must have seen me leave –'

Footsteps were approaching the living room, which seemed to prod Potter into action.

'She can't see him –' he said quickly, moving to intercept the newcomer before they reached the living room.

As Potter reached the door though it was thrown open from the other side. John caught sight of an exasperated looking woman. She was tall and dressed in formal Wizarding robes. His view was blocked though as Potter moved to stand in front of her.

'Kindly explain Potter why _half _my Auror department –'

She was cut off though as Potter man-handled the woman out of the room, gesturing for the red-head to follow him, but not before the woman glimpsed John.

'Potter –'

'Sorry,' John heard Potter say. 'Missing department you were saying?'

'What are you hiding Harry?' the woman asked, the sudden familiarity surprising John. 'That man...'

'It's no one,' Potter said quickly.

'Don't bother Harry, you're a hopeless liar,' the woman said amusedly. 'Now tell me that wasn't who I thought it was or I might just start asking why exactly I let two incompetents such as yourselves run my Auror department.'

'Harry isn't even supposed to be at work today,' the red-head protested. 'Ginny just gave birth!'

'Oh I know,' the woman said easily, though her tone was deceptively warm. 'I've already been to see Ginny and Lily. Congratulations Harry.'

'Thanks,' Potter replied – sounding relieved, although John doubted the woman was finished with them.

'You still haven't explained why _Severus Snape_ is sitting in your living room Harry,' the woman continued shrewdly.

'Err –'

The door was shut by someone, effectively cutting off the conversation. John looked over to Poppy to find her smirking at the door.

'Harry works for the Ministry of Magic,' she explained. 'He heads the Auror Office – the muggle equivalent would be the Police force,' Poppy added at John's confused look.

John was distracted from asking further questions as Albus climbed up next to him on the couch.

'Story?' the boy asked hopefully.

John scowled – what was with this child. Madam Pomfrey laughed at his expression.

'Albus must like you a lot,' she said frankly, 'he's normally much shyer.'

John didn't get a chance to reply as the living room door opened once more. Potter stepped through, still looking rather sheepish, followed by the red-head and the woman. The woman was staring at him intently and John took the chance to study her properly. She was older than the other men, closer to his own age. Her expression was neutral and professional. It was her eyes though that caught John's attention. They were a startling deep blue. She was studying him shrewdly and John did not doubt that she was highly intelligent. There was an edge to her gaze though, an iciness, directed specifically towards him. This woman knew him he realised...and she did not like him.

'Ev!' cried Albus, hopping off the couch to embrace the woman.

The moment she spotted the toddler the woman's face broke into a delighted smile and she picked the little boy up to give him a hug.

'Might I introduce my boss,' Potter cut in. 'Ms Evelyn Hughes, Head of the Department for Magical Law Enforcement.' The woman put Albus down gently, her professional demeanour returning immediately. The little boy seemed to understand, and moved back to sit on the couch with John.

'Evelyn, this is –'

'John Smith,' Ms Hughes supplied.

John noticed there was a slight curl to her lips as she said it – as though she found it ironic. Moving forward she offered her hand to John, who had no choice but to stand and accept it.

'A pleasure to meet you Mr Smith,' she said smoothly with the hint of an Irish accent.

She had a strong grip and John did not hesitate to match it. The sudden increase in pressure seemed to amuse her and that ironic smirk appeared once more. Her gaze though remained cold and evaluating. John met her gaze, raising his eyebrow in response as he accepted the unspoken challenge. He was not so easily intimidated. Evelyn spared him one final glance before releasing his hand and turning away.

'You have one week of leave Potter,' she said brusquely. 'Congratulations Weasley, you've been promoted. I shall see you at work.'

With that she turned on her heel, robes swishing behind her, and left the room. Neither man seemed particularly happy with her pronouncement. Finally Harry dropped back onto the couch, letting out a loud sigh as he rubbed his hands through his messy hair in weariness.

'I don't believe I've introduced myself,' the red-head said uncomfortably into the silence, moving forward from the doorway.

'Ron Weasley.'

He offered his hand and John shook it briefly.

'John Smith,' he supplied.

'I better go Harry,' Weasley continued. 'We'll take Al for the night but for both our sakes go and see Ginny.'

'Thanks Ron,' Harry said, sounding relieved. Pulling himself up he moved to kneel in front of his son. 'Al you're staying over with Uncle Ron tonight, OK?'

The little boy nodded excitedly before giving his father a brief hug and a kiss goodnight. John turned away disinterestedly.

'Let's go,' Weasley said, hoisting Albus up onto his shoulders and carrying him out of the living room.

Silence descended on the room, and John lost himself in his thoughts, rubbing wearily at his eyes. His sleep-deprived state was distracting as he tried to recall everything he had been told so far.

'You've had a lot to take in John,' Poppy said softly from beside him. 'You should get some sleep.'

'Until you regain control of your magic I would suggest that you remain here, to avoid any more muggles witnessing accidental magic,' advised Harry. 'If you would rather return to your own home though, I will take you now.'

'I'll stay,' John answered quietly.

Potter held too many cards for John to let him out of his sight now.

'Very well,' said Poppy. 'I must return to Hogwarts but I shall be in contact with you tomorrow Harry. Good night.'

'Come on, I'll show you to your room,' Potter said, getting up to follow Poppy out of the living room.

John was returned to the room he'd woken in.

'I need to go and see my wife,' Potter said awkwardly from the doorway. 'And there are a few other people I have to talk to tonight. I'll be back before morning but please, for your own safety, do not leave this property.'

John nodded; even if he had decided to leave he had no idea where he was. Potter seemed satisfied and gave John a smile before leaving. John watched him go before moving into the room. Sitting on the edge of the bed he let his head drop into his hands. He needed time to think.

XXXX


	3. October 2008 I

**Chapter 3**

_30th September - 1st October, 2008_

Harry hurried along the quiet corridors, the smell of disinfectant causing him to wrinkle his nose in distaste. He'd spent far too long in the Hospital Wing as a boy to ever really be comfortable in hospitals. Reaching room G104 he knocked softly, before opening the door slightly. He smiled as Ginny looked up at him. She looked exhausted, their tiny daughter asleep on her chest, but Harry thought he'd never seen anything more beautiful. Stepping into the room he closed the door gently and crossed the room on padded feet. With an exasperated nod from Ginny he climbed up onto the bed, grinning despite himself as he stretched out his legs out and wrapped his arms around his wife and daughter.

'She looks a lot like you Gin,' he whispered with awe, stroking the small mop of bright red hair his daughter had been born with.

He looked over to find Ginny studying him with a thoroughly disgruntled expression, although he could tell by the relief in her eyes that it was mostly an act. Throwing caution to the wind he leant in and pressed a quick kiss to her lips. Pulling back he gave her his most apologetic expression and watched as Ginny's annoyed expression crumpled.

'Don't think you're off the hook Harry,' she said sternly, although it was ruined by her amused smile.

Leaning in Ginny returned his kiss with slightly more vigour. The moment Harry began to respond though she pulled back teasingly.

'You still owe me an explanation as to where you've been all evening.'

'Oh right,' said Harry embarrassedly, he'd momentarily forgotten about Snape.

Coming back to reality he hastily pulled out his wand and muttered a few choice privacy spells, earning a raised eyebrow from Ginny.

'Honestly Harry,' she began, 'you're almost as paranoid as Moody was. What could you possibly have to say that needs privacy wards in a _hospital_?'

'Trust me,' he said gravely, 'this isn't the sort of news I want overheard.'

'Is everything alright?' Ginny asked, worry beginning to creep into her tone. 'Something hasn't happened with Albus has it? Andy said his infection –'

'The children are fine,' Harry cut in. 'Al's fine, he's with Ron at the moment.'

'What? Why?' Ginny asked confusedly.

Harry ran a hand through his hair distractedly, trying to decide on the best way to tell Ginny. Unconsciously he got up off the hospital bed and began to pace.

'Harry Potter, if you don't tell me what's happened right this instant I _will_ hex you!' Ginny warned menacingly.

Harry was so forcibly reminded of Mrs Weasley that he stopped mid-pace and stared at his wife in bewilderment. Sometimes he forgot just who Ginny was related to.

'Whoa, calm down Gin,' he said quickly, seating himself in the visitor's chair and fixing Ginny with a pleading look. 'I'm just a little distracted at the moment...I...look, I'll start at the beginning,' he added hastily when Ginny looked set to interrupt.

Taking a deep breath he launched into his tale, starting with the firecall from Michael which had changed everything.

XXXX

Twenty minutes later an astounded Ginny was still coming to terms with Harry's revelations.

'It's really him?' she asked for the third time.

'Yes,' Harry answered exasperatedly, before adding in an amused tone, 'and if you ask me again I might just have to glue your tongue to the roof of your mouth.'

'Shut up Harry,' she said playfully, shoving a pillow at her husband.

'Hey!'

Forgetting he was almost thirty, Harry jumped up onto the bed beside Ginny, intent on getting his own back. He was stopped though by the sound of his daughter waking. Dropping his loosely held pillow he leapt off the bed and in two strides had crossed to the hospital bassinet. Scooping up the tiny baby with practiced ease he crossed back to Ginny, handing her the squalling infant. Within minutes the child was feeding and Harry re-seated himself on the bed, allowing Ginny to lean back on him as she fed Lily.

'I'm glad you found him,' said Ginny, breaking the peaceful silence.

Harry murmured in agreement, resting his chin on Ginny's soft hair.

'I don't know what we're going to do with him,' he finally said, voicing his fears for the first time since he'd found Snape. 'No memories and no control over his magic. Merlin, Gin, he wouldn't stand a chance if it became common knowledge that he was alive.'

'You can help him Harry,' Ginny said adamantly.

'Can I?' Harry asked hopelessly.

'He gave those memories to you Harry. He only ever wanted you to see them. Besides you're one of the best Legilimens in Britain and I'm sure you can handle a little bit of accidental magic...I mean you're great with Teddy,' she finished fondly.

'Teddy's an excited ten year old Gin,' Harry pointed out.

'You'll be fine darling,' Ginny reassured him.

Harry smiled into Ginny's shoulder. Merlin he loved this woman.

'What do you say to a few weeks in Godric's Hollow, Mrs Potter,' he suggested cheekily.

Ginny rolled her eyes, although her husband could not see.

'The boy's are going to be ecstatic,' she answered dryly.

Harry laughed aloud at that, before carefully disengaging himself from his wife and child. Getting off the bed he stood before Ginny, fastidiously smoothing his shirt.

'I'm going to pay Dumbledore a visit,' he said, his brow darkening slightly. 'That infuriating portrait has been hiding something for the past ten years and I intend to find out _precisely_ just what it was.'

'Don't take too long Harry,' said Ginny, fixing her husband with a worried look. 'I don't think it's a good idea for Professor Snape to be alone right now.'

Harry let out a sigh, running his hands through his messy hair.

'It shouldn't take too long, I doubt Albus is going to hide anything from me now... not when he learns Snape is alive.'

Leaning in his gave his wife a kiss before gently moving to place a kiss on the top of Lily's head. Regretfully he left the room, hurrying down to the apparition point in the atrium of St Mungo's. Turning into nothingness he disapparated to the gates of Hogwarts.

XXXX

Admittedly knocking on Headmistress McGonagall's office door well past midnight had not been the wisest thing he'd ever done. A rather irate McGonagall, wearing a dressing gown and hairnet, had received him only grudgingly into her office after a twenty minute lecture on when it was and was _not_ appropriate to pay a social call at Hogwarts. He stood now alone in her office, McGonagall having stormed back to bed after Harry had apologised profusely but been unable to tell her exactly why it was necessary for him to see Albus' portrait so urgently. Harry had made the decision that the fewer people who were aware of Snape's return from the dead, the better. Even if that meant ostracising Minerva for the time being, he thought guilty.

Sure that he was now alone, he did not hesitate to put up several powerful silencing charms. Stowing his wand in his jacket, he seated himself at one of McGonagall's desk chairs, finally raising his eyes to meet the curious gaze of Albus Dumbledore. The portrait had been staring at him intently throughout McGonagall's lecture but Harry had deliberately ignored it. Harry let the silence stretch out for a moment longer, after all he'd spent ten years waiting for answers.

'So,' he began, acutely aware that he had Dumbledore's complete attention, 'the plan was to have Snape disappear into the Muggle world.' He heard the portrait let out a surprised gasp but he ploughed on resolutely. 'New identity and declared dead in the Wizarding world. A fresh start so to speak. A second chance one might say,' he suggested looking up to find Dumbledore studying him with sorrowful eyes.

'Harry,' Dumbledore began, 'I swore an oath. I gave Severus my word that I would not seek him out or provide other's with the means to find him. He wanted to start over Harry, surely you can understand that?'

'It's not _that_ I'm having trouble understanding,' Harry growled.

Harry paused momentarily.

'Tell me Dumbledore,' Harry asked, his tone suddenly apprehensive, desperate to believe that Dumbledore had not been party to the act. 'Was it _necessary_ to wipe his memories?'

Dumbledore's shocked expression was enough for Harry to know the truth. The amnesia had not been planned. Something else had caused Severus Snape to forget himself that night.

'What! Harry...How?'

The portrait fumbled for words. Taking a deep breath, Harry explained the situation for the third time that night.

'With the memories he gave me, both Poppy and I believe there is a chance he may yet recover,' Harry finished.

'Memories?' Dumbledore queried.

Harry looked momentarily embarrassed before he spoke up hesitatingly.

'He'd been attacked by Nagini before he could tell me that I had to die,' Harry explained uncomfortably. 'He was dying so he gave me his memories so that I would know what to do. That was the last time I saw him. I...I kept the memories.'

Harry looked up, surprised to find that Dumbledore was studying him seriously, a thoughtful expression on the portrait's painted face.

'Tell me Harry,' Dumbledore began, 'how did Severus impart the memories to you?'

Harry raised his eyebrow at the odd question.

'Indulge an old man,' Dumbledore requested, resting his chin on his hands, his blue eyes twinkling madly over his half-moon glasses.

'They just kind of...flowed...out of him,' Harry said, frowning.

Dumbledore looked immensely satisfied at his explanation.

'What is it?' Harry demanded, interpreting the expression correctly.

'I do believe I can provide an explanation for Severus' amnesia.'

The portrait paused briefly, but at Harry's darkening expression Dumbledore hastily continued.

'There is a reason wizards use wands to extract memories,' Dumbledore said gravely. 'The process of extracting a memory requires visualisation of the memory which you wish to remove. The wizard must then, in a way, push the memory to the forefront of his mind, the whole time keeping it intact, and from there it can be expelled. With a wand you can direct the memory deliberately to a set point in your mind where it can be transferred directly onto the wand. Doing so ensures that the specific memory, in its entirety, is removed at once. It is still possible to remove memories without a wand...but the results are often disastrous. Only those wizards with the strongest will power would ever attempt a wandless extraction and only in the most controlled environment. And even then, the wizard cannot guarantee that the memory he wishes you to view is the only memory he has extracted.'

Dumbledore smiled sadly down at Harry, his expression regretful.

'Severus must have truly been dying if he was willing to risk showing you some of his most private memories.'

'He was,' Harry said hoarsely, his eyes taking on a faraway look as he lost himself in the memory of that horrific day.

Dumbledore waited patiently for Harry to shake himself out of his thoughts before voicing another question.

'Was there anything different about the memories Severus gave you Harry?'

It was a curious question, Harry thought, and he was about to decline when he remembered there had been something odd about the memories.

'They were disjointed,' Harry recalled. 'They followed his life, but sometimes the time difference between memories would be years...other times days.'

'Anything else?' Dumbledore prompted.

'Some of them took a long time to form,' Harry said thoughtfully, 'as though there was supposed to be something in between the memories but it wasn't there. And towards the end they kind of sped up...he'd already shown me that I had to die but there were still other memories...as though – '

Harry broke off as a thought occurred to him.

_As though he wanted me to know everything. _

Harry had never really considered it before, but Snape had given him everything. He hadn't just supplied him with the memory containing the information that he had to die. No, Snape had shown him every instance Harry had ever questioned him over; he'd even thought to include the accidental _Sectumsempra_ cast at George Weasley. It was as though he'd _wanted_ to put his role as spy beyond doubt.

'But why would he do that?' Harry muttered aloud. _Surely it hadn't been intentional. Not from Snape._

'Do what, my boy?' Dumbledore asked benignly.

Harry ignored the question.

'Professor, how hard is it to control what memories you release when you're not using a wand?'

'It is difficult and most wizards are incapable of ever considering such methods. Without a disciplined mind it is highly probable that unnecessary memories would be released simultaneously. However, I do not doubt that Severus, even in the state he was, would not have given you anymore or less than he intended to.'

Harry gaped in surprise, eliciting a small chuckle from the portrait.

'You would have known if there were extra memories Harry,' Dumbledore said fondly. 'They would have interrupted other memories or appeared out of sequence. _That_ is why so few wizards choose to extract memories wandlessly. Without a wand, very few wizards are able to produce comprehensible memories.'

'But he gave me _everything_, Professor,' Harry said desperately.

'I cannot say for sure, but if Severus believed he was dying... I do not think he wished to go to the grave with Lily Evan's only child believing him to be a Death Eater and a murderer. I believe he wanted you to understand his actions. And so he let you understand the only way he could...by giving you those memories.'

Harry nodded stiffly, accepting Dumbledore's explanation although he still held doubts.

'My answer is only a guess Harry,' Dumbledore said gently, cutting into Harry's thoughts. 'Only Severus can truly answer your question.'

With a Herculean effort Harry seemed to turn his thoughts back to their original discussion point.

'Can his amnesia be cured if I restore his memories?'

Harry didn't bother to conceal his hope, studying Dumbledore fervently.

'I believe so,' Dumbledore admitted.

'The amnesia was not part of the plan Harry,' Dumbledore added upon seeing Harry's relief. 'From the description you have given of Severus' memories I am inclined to believe the amnesia occurred as a direct result of the physical trauma Severus had suffered. His body would have been unable to handle the stress of extracting memories under such duress. It is likely that he repressed his memories as a protective mechanism.'

'How is that _protective?_' Harry asked with disdain.

'His mind would have seen the sudden expulsion of a number of life-changing memories as a threat,' Dumbledore explained calmly. 'The mind does strange things when under duress. It would have acted to save what it could of Severus' remaining memories; even if that meant suppressing them, Harry. With the return of those key memories though, under your guidance Harry, Severus should recover his identity.'

'Very well Professor,' Harry cut in dryly, 'you've solved the mystery of Snape's amnesia. Perhaps now you could tell me exactly what it was you swore to keep secret.'

The portrait of Dumbledore suddenly seemed embarrassed and Harry began to wonder just what he had gotten himself into.

'As you wish, Harry,' Dumbledore yielded.

There was a short pause, as Dumbledore collected his thoughts.

'As you know,' Dumbledore began quietly, 'the night of the Third Task of the Triwizard Tournament, Severus returned to Voldemort. He returned well after being called but it was imperative that he reinstate himself with the Death Eaters. To this day, I have no idea what transpired whilst he was there. He was _returned_,' Dumbledore spoke the word with distaste, 'to the school late the following evening. It seemed a miracle that he was still alive but both Poppy and I could tell immediately that something terrible had occurred. That night in the Hospital Wing, Severus was not himself. It was then that he begged me to devise a way for him to disappear, should he have survived, once the war was over.'

Dumbledore raised his eyes to meet Harry's troubled gaze, 'I could not refuse him.'

Harry nodded in understanding.

'I owed him that at least,' Dumbledore said sadly, before steeling himself and continuing on. 'Despite his request, Severus did not speak of the topic again – not until your sixth year. When it became apparent that he would have no choice but to fulfil our agreement he once more asked for my assistance in disappearing from the Wizarding world. There was very little we could plan out precisely, with the future so uncertain, but discreetly I organised a new identity for him. By the time of my death Severus possessed the necessary Muggle paperwork which would have allowed him to move to Ireland, where a property and a Muggle bank account were being maintained under his new identity. As far as Severus was aware that was all I had done to ensure he would be capable of a new life come the end of the war.'

'What didn't you tell him?' Harry asked curiously.

'You must understand Harry,' Dumbledore said quickly, 'that Severus was certain there would be a time he could slip away without being detected... I thought otherwise. I admit,' Dumbledore began, looking shamefaced, 'that I did not think it likely Severus would escape Voldemort without being mortally injured...and so I arranged a failsafe.'

'I temporarily bound a House Elf to Severus... without his knowledge,' Dumbledore admitted.

Harry let out a breath in understanding.

'If he were on the brink of death –'

'The House Elf would know, and be able to complete the orders I had given it,' finished Dumbledore.

'What were your orders?'

'If it were safe,' said Dumbledore, 'the House Elf was to remove Severus immediately to a Muggle Hospital. Upon completing the order, he was to return to Hogwarts and never speak of the order again. If Severus had not lost his memory...'

Dumbledore trailed off, leaving Harry alone to his thoughts.

'What was the House Elf's name?' Harry asked distractedly.

'Lofty.'

Sucking in a breath, Harry made his decision – he still had one more question that needed answering.

'Lofty!' he called aloud.

CRACK!

A House Elf adorned in the Hogwarts uniform appeared before Harry. The little creature's brown eyes widened as it realised who had called for him.

'Master Harry Potter, sir,' Lofty squeaked, 'it is an honour to meet you, sir. How may Lofty be of service?'

Harry crouched down so that he was closer to Lofty's eye level.

'The night of the Battle for Hogwarts,' he began carefully, 'did you find Professor Snape in the Shrieking Shack?'

'Lofty cannot answer, sir,' the Elf squealed helplessly. 'Lofty was ordered not to answer. Lofty must not break Headmaster Dumbledore's orders.'

Harry reached out gently to still the rocking elf before he could harm himself.

'I know Lofty,' he said gently. 'I've been speaking to Professor Dumbledore. Look you can speak to him yourself.'

Leaning back he allowed Lofty to gaze at the portrait of Professor Dumbledore.

'You have my permission to tell Mister Potter everything,' Dumbledore said graciously, smiling benignly at the elf and Harry.

'Of course Master Dumbledore,' said Lofty. 'Lofty is never been telling anyone, sir, about your orders.'

'Dumbledore would be very proud of you,' said Harry. 'Could you tell me Lofty, about the night you found Professor Snape in the Shrieking Shack?'

'Of course Master Harry Potter, sir,' Lofty replied eagerly, keen to obey Harry's request now that Dumbledore's orders had been rescinded. 'Headmaster Dumbledore bound Lofty to Master Snape sir, but he was never to know. Lofty must never approach him, Master Dumbledore said. Not unless Master Snape was dying. And he was sir. Lofty knew sir. Lofty felt his master's pain and Lofty hurried to help his master. Master Snape was in the Shrieking Shack sir, you were there too sir, but Lofty could not be seen. So Lofty waited until Master Harry Potter and his friends left. Master Snape was almost gone, but Lofty could see where he was hurt, so Lofty helped him sir.'

'How did you help him Lofty?' Harry asked kindly.

'Lofty healed him enough that he would live sir,' the Elf said proudly, 'and then Lofty took him to the Muggle Hospital.'

'And after that Professor Snape was no longer your master?'

'Lofty returned to Hogwarts sir. Lofty's orders were complete. Lofty serves Hogwarts now.'

'Thank you, Lofty,' Harry said, standing back up as the House Elf bowed low and disapparated with a CRACK.

'Well that explains how he survived,' Harry said quietly, aware that the portrait of Dumbledore was listening keenly. 'It seems your actions, Albus, saved his life.'

'I am only too sorry that it required saving,' the portrait said mournfully. 'If he is willing, when he has regained his memories, I would very much like to talk to him.'

Harry nodded before picking up his travelling cloak from Dumbledore's desk.

'It is late,' he said shortly. 'I must return to Godric's Hollow.'

Harry was at the door when he turned back to face the portrait once more.

'Thank you for telling me the truth sir.'

XXXX

John had no idea how much time had passed since Harry Potter had left him. The lights in his room were dim and unchanging, allowing the hours to merge together effortlessly. Even so, the concept of tracking time seemed irrelevant when his mind was so preoccupied. Poppy and Potter's words seemed to echo around the room. Snippets of phrases he barely understood played endlessly, muddling with other thoughts until he no longer knew quite what to think. His thoughts seemed to be spiralling out of control the longer he remained stationary, he realised. The previous night's disturbed sleep and the beating he had taken earlier in the day had exhausted him, dissuading him from pacing agitatedly about the room. The feeling of restlessness made him uneasy though and in an attempt to distract himself he examined his surroundings more closely.

He had been far too inattentive, focused solely on procuring an escape route, to appreciate the room properly when he'd first woken up. With interest he noticed a small bookcase tucked into the far corner. Knowing he was too troubled to consider sleep, despite his exhaustion, he approached the bookcase with curiosity. Reading had always calmed him down, and faced with the chance to gain more knowledge of the Wizarding world he knelt before the bookshelf, perusing the titles fervently.

A moderately sized hardback caught his attention: "_A Comprehensive Guide to the First and Second Wizarding Wars_". The dark emerald book looked brand new and if John wasn't mistaken had never been opened. Frowning he flicked through the pages quickly, noting the numerous illustrations, particularly the latter half of the book which seemed to contain profiles of various witches and wizards. Flicking back to the index John examined the books contents with intrigue.

_Severus Snape p398_

John froze as he read the name. His breath hitched as he flicked clumsily to the correct page. The book dropped from his nerveless fingers as he found Severus Snape staring up at him.

It was him – John Smith – without a doubt. The hair might be longer, the scowl more permanent but he could not deny it was him. For the first time that night, Harry Potter's claim finally sunk in. He really was Severus Snape.

With shaky hands he picked the book up, automatically moving to sit on the edge of the bed. Determined to know himself, he bent his head and began to read.

_Little is known of Severus Snape prior to his arrival at Hogwarts in 1971. His mother, Eileen Prince, was a member of the influential pure-blooded Prince family but upon her marriage to Muggle, Tobias Snape, she was disowned. She was rarely seen in the Wizarding world after the birth of her son until her death in 1978. Little is known about Tobias Snape, although sources indicate he too died before his son reached 20 years of age. Snape rarely spoke of his family or childhood._

_Upon arrival at Hogwarts he was sorted into Slytherin House. Without a doubt he was one of the most intelligent and exceptional wizards ever to pass through the school. He received ten Outstanding O.W.L.s and seven Outstanding N.E.W.T.s. He was awarded the highest marks internationally in his Potions NEWT; a phenomenal achievement. His abilities as an incredibly adept Potioneer were recognised within one year of graduating from Hogwarts when he achieved Mastery in the subject. Snape also excelled at Defence Against the Dark Arts. His achievements in this field were highly controversial though (see p209)._

_Following graduation Snape kept a low profile in the Wizarding world. However, much speculation has surrounded the interim period between Snape's graduation (1978) and his reappearance at Hogwarts, as Potion's Master (1980). There is no question that at some point in this period, Severus Snape was initiated into Lord Voldemort's Death Eaters. The exact date that he accepted the Dark Mark is unknown, although it is believed it may have been as early as July 1978._

_As discussed in Chapter 15, Severus Snape was brought to trial, accused of War Crimes against the Wizarding world, following the disappearance of Lord Voldemort (October 31__st__, 1981). These charges included murder, rape, torture and use of all three Unforgiveables against wizards and Muggles alike. Severus Snape was cleared of all charges by the Council of Magical Law in November 1981, and vouched for by Albus Dumbledore. In 1997 Severus Snape was charged with the murder of Albus Dumbledore. No trial was ever held and despite the strong evidence to the contrary and the previous testimony of Harry Potter, Severus Snape (under the "Potter Pardons" Act – see Chapter 32) was acquitted posthumously. _

The book fell from John's nerveless fingers, but he hardly noticed.

_Murder...rape...War Crimes_

The words echoed in his head. He could think of nothing else.

_Murder...rape...War Crimes_

It couldn't be true, he thought desperately.

_Murder...rape...War Crimes_

What sort of person had he been, he thought with disgust. For the first time in ten years, John considered that perhaps it would be better to remain amnesiac. That perhaps he _should_ move on with his life...forget whoever he had been...forget Severus Snape forever.

'Are you alright?'

XXXX

It was close to three in the morning by the time Harry made it back to Godric's Hollow. His discussion with Albus had taken much longer than he'd anticipated. Hanging his travelling cloak up he allowed himself a moment to collect himself. It was close to forty-eight hours since he'd last slept and he was dead on his feet. Tiredly he flicked his wand, flicking the downstairs lights off. His discussions with Ginny and Dumbledore had given him a lot to think about but he was much too tired to think at present. Instead, he made his way to the stairs. As he reached the top landing, he frowned as he noticed the light spilling from the spare room.

Surely Snape had fallen asleep hours ago, Harry thought to himself. After all, the man had been exhausted when Harry had left. It was odd though, he'd have expected Kreacher to flick the lights off if Snape had been asleep. That reminded him that he'd yet to explain the electricity situation to Snape. Making a mental note to discuss it in the morning, Harry let out a sigh before approaching the door cautiously. He stopped in surprise at the sight before him.

Snape was sitting with his back to Harry, his head hanging forward in obvious defeat and distress. Harry frowned slightly as he realised Snape's hands were gripping his hair, pulling as though he wished to rip out great chunks of his hair.

'Are you alright?' he asked with concern, automatically stepping into the room.

He froze though as Snape whipped round to face him; his eyes alight with unknowable pain, his lip curled into an ugly sneer at the sight of Harry. Harry watched with alarm as Snape's features morphed into a blank mask and a manic gleam entered the man's eyes.

'Were you going to tell me Potter?' the man sneered angrily.

'Tell you what?' Harry asked in bafflement.

He had no idea what Snape was going on about and he was much too tired to play games.

'You know damn well what,' Snape spat.

Harry was about to ask angrily just what Snape thought he was hiding, when he noticed the man's eyes flick involuntarily to something by his feet. Instinctively Harry moved to investigate. Rounding the bed Harry scowled as he recognised the tented tome. He'd never read it but he could imagine what it contained. Stooping he picked it up, flipping the book over to examine the page Snape had been reading. Unsurprisingly Severus' face jumped out at him – so it's some kind of profile, he deduced.

Harry read the entire profile, his scowl darkening the further he read. With a snap he closed the book, returning it to its place on the bookshelf. Snape seemed to snap out of his thoughts at the sharp sound, turning away as Harry conjured a straight-backed chair and seated himself expectantly across from Snape.

'Yes,' Harry said suddenly, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

'What?' snarled Snape, fixing Harry with an irritated glare.

'Yes I was going to tell you,' Harry said calmly, ignoring the shocked expression this elicited. 'Just not yet.'

'Why not?' demanded Snape, who seemed to have recovered somewhat.

Harry let out an exasperated sigh, running his hands through his hair as he tried to phrase his reason in a way that Snape would understand.

'Because, John,' he said tiredly, although he didn't miss Snape flinch at the name, 'I wanted you to know yourself first. Merlin, it's difficult to explain... I just didn't want you to...,' he paused searching for the correct word, '_learn_ about who _you_ are from reading about what others might have thought you were.'

'I hardly think it matters,' Snape said sardonically. 'Whether you told me or that book told me, the truth remains the same.'

'And just what did you learn about yourself John?' Harry enquired dryly, his patience wearing thin.

'That I've murdered, raped and been charged with War Crimes.'

Snape expressed the statement calmly but Harry could see it was a huge strain for Snape to maintain the facade. It was obvious that Snape found the revelations anything but calming.

'Indeed,' Harry replied smoothly, as though they were simply discussing the weather. 'And do _you_, John Smith, remember committing these unspeakable acts?'

'OF COURSE I DON'T!' Snape roared, standing abruptly.

Harry made to talk but Snape cut him off.

'YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND! HOW CAN YOU UNDERSTAND?' Harry edged backwards at the deranged look on Snape's face. 'I'M NOT WHO I THOUGHT I WAS. DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT IT'S LIKE TO REALISE THAT? FOR THE PAST TEN YEARS I'VE WANTED TO KNOW WHO I REALLY AM. AND YOU TELL ME _THIS_ IS WHO I AM? SEVERUS SNAPE – MURDERER, RAPIST AND WAR CRIMINAL. WELL YOU KNOW WHAT POTTER; I DON'T _WANT_ TO BE THAT MAN.'

Snape was breathing heavily and Harry watched with concern as the man sank to the floor. It was the second time in the space of a few hours that Harry had seen Snape lose his composure. The fight seemed to go out of Snape as he hit the floor. One leg was stretched out, the other bent as Snape stared listlessly at the opposite wall. As the silence stretched out and the broken man remained immobile and unresponsive, Snape's suffering became obvious. For the first time since he'd found John Smith, Harry began to realise just how terrible it would have been to have no identity.

'You're not,' Harry said quietly but surely, breaking the silence. 'You're none of those, John. You're not a murderer, you're not a rapist and you're not a war criminal.'

Snape remained motionless but Harry was not deterred.

'Any captured wizard who bore the Dark Mark received those charges in the First War. There were no exceptions – not until the accused stood trial. You stood trial and you were cleared of all charges by the Council of Magical Law. Trust me, John, Albus Dumbledore would not have vouched for you if you had not been innocent. Besides,' Harry said lightly, in an attempt to get a response out of Snape, 'do you really think I'd have left my son with you if you'd committed any of those crimes?'

The statement had the desired effect, causing Snape to turn sharply towards Harry, fixing the young man with an incredulous look. Harry shot the man an impish grin, relieved to see some life in the man's dark eyes. Standing, Harry offered the man a hand up. For a long moment Snape simply stared at the proffered hand until he seemed to come to a decision and accept Harry's gesture. Smiling warmly, Harry pulled the man to his feet.

'We can talk in the morning,' Harry said knowingly, as Snape made to say something.

With a silent flick of his wand Harry summoned a Sleeping potion.

'You've had an exhausting day John, and I'm sure you're feeling overwhelmed. You need to get some decent sleep.'

The small bottle flew into the room and Harry caught it deftly. Snape was studying him with suspicion but he seemed to relax as Harry uncurled his hand, revealing the potion. Harry suppressed a smirk, it seemed even without his memories Snape was only truly comfortable around potions.

'I'd like you to take this Sleeping potion,' he said firmly, holding the bottle out for Snape to take.

Snape said nothing, studying Harry with an appraising look. Eventually Snape reached out, accepting the small bottle. He downed the bottle in one, handing the empty flask back to Harry. Without another word he dropped onto his bed. By the time Harry reached the door, flicking the lights off as he did so, Snape was fast asleep.

XXXX

Harry pulled out the battered fob watch that had once been Fabian Prewett's and let out an exasperated sigh as he realised it was 4:50am. There was no way he was getting any sleep tonight. His children were currently early risers, with James and Albus almost always waking around 5:30am. Harry eyed his bedroom door with a longing look but knowing it was not to be he turned around and made his way back downstairs. Entering the kitchen he immediately set to making himself a strong cup of double-strength coffee. The potion he had given Snape would keep the man under for eight hours at least, which meant he'd have plenty of time to track down his offspring and visit Ginny.

Twenty minutes later and feeling significantly more awake, Harry made his way over to the fireplace. Seizing a fistful of green floo powder he dropped it into the fireplace.

'Twelve Grimmauld Place,' he called clearly, and in whirl of green flames he was gone.

Harry stumbled onto his hearth mat. Even at the age of twenty-eight he had yet to master the graceful art of floo travel. Dusting himself off and grateful that no one had witnessed his arrival he hurried upstairs to shower and change clothes. Somehow he did not think Ginny would be impressed if he arrived wearing the same clothing he'd taken her to hospital in.

Harry exited the ensuite bathroom thirty minutes later towelling off his wet hair, and was not surprised to find James sprawled on his and Ginny's bed. The three year old was wearing a set of pyjamas with roaring dragons on them and Harry suppressed a smirk at the untameable dark auburn hair which suggested his son had only just woken up. With a mischievous smile Harry approached James, who had yet to notice him, and without warning picked his three year old up, ruffling the boy's messy hair fondly.

'Morning James,' he said merrily.

'Dad!' James said with relief, throwing his arms around Harry's neck with enthusiasm. 'Where have you been? Is Mummy coming home? Where's Al?'

'One question at a time James,' Harry said wryly as he set his son back on the bed.

James jumped off immediately though coming to stand between Harry's legs and fixing his father with a curious look. Harry gently manoeuvred James to the side as he pulled on his shoes, waiting patiently for James to ask him properly.

'Where's Al?' James finally asked, seemingly deeming this the most important of his questions.

Harry looked up from tying his shoelaces in surprise, having expected James to ask about Ginny first.

'Albus is with Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione,' Harry answered, standing as he finished tying his laces. 'We'll go and pick him up later, ok?'

'Ok, but is mummy there?' James asked immediately.

'No, but she'll be coming home tomorrow with Lily,' he said as he returned the towel to the bathroom, James trailing behind him.

'Can we go see Lily?' James asked excitedly, his words jumbling in his haste.

Harry let out a sigh at the sight of just how excited James was, before crouching down to James' eye level.

'Sorry champ, we've got a lot to do today.'

'But,' Harry added quickly, seeing James disappointment, 'when Teddy gets up, I've got a surprise for both of you.'

'Really?' James asked brightly and before Harry could stop him the boy had raced out of the room, grinning mischievously.

Slow to catch on Harry followed after James, as he heard the boy racing up the stairs. Harry had just started to climb the stairs when he heard James burst into Teddy's room. Realising what James was up to Harry took the stairs three at a time. He arrived at Teddy's room to find James had already succeeded in waking the confused ten year old, and had taken up residence on Teddy's bed. He was babbling at Teddy, his speech having become incomprehensible in his excitement.

'James Potter,' Harry said sternly, from the doorway.

Harry hadn't raised his voice but his son knew he was in trouble the moment his father spoke. James stopped talking immediately, paling slightly at the sight of his father. At a pointed gesture from Harry, James scrambled off the bed and hurried to his father's side. Harry didn't spare the boy a glance, instead turning his attention to Teddy.

'Ignore James, Ted, he's just a little over-excited. You can go back to sleep if you want.'

'Nah,' Teddy said quickly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. 'It's alright, I'm up already.'

Harry held back a smile at Teddy's obvious curiosity.

'Alright, we'll discuss my surprise after breakfast. See you downstairs.'

With that Harry placed a hand on James' shoulder and steered the boy back to his own bedroom. Shutting the door behind them, Harry seated himself on James' bed before facing his subdued son.

'What rules did you break James?' Harry asked quietly.

'No running in the house,' James supplied defiantly.

Harry bit back a smirk at the tone. James had a habit of breaking this particular rule and had often had to explain his actions to Harry. It seemed the almost four-year old was becoming much more confident though, Harry thought amusedly. Although from the way James was fiddling with his pyjama buttons, Harry could tell the defiance was an act.

'And?' he asked expectantly.

It took James a few moments of consideration before he had the correct answer.

'Knock before entering.'

'Why don't we run in the house, James?' Harry asked patiently.

''Cus I might fall and hurt myself.'

The answer was supplied immediately and verbatim; a testament to the number of times James had broken that particular rule.

'And why do we knock first before entering a room?'

'It's polite,' James answered after a moment's hesitation.

'Do you think Teddy appreciated being woken up like that?'

'No, Dad.'

'Are you going to do it again?'

James shook his head.

'Good.'

James looked up in relief, although he looked suitably chastised.

'I want you to apologise to Teddy when we get downstairs ok?'

'Yes, Dad.'

Harry stood and together the pair made their way downstairs for breakfast.

XXXX

It was midday by the time Harry returned to Godric's Hollow. Teddy, James, and Albus had already raced inside with strict instructions to remain downstairs only. Harry followed the children inside at a much more sedate pace, his weariness beginning to catch up with him. In the space of the past few hours he'd managed to excuse Teddy from school for two weeks, speak to Ginny and arrange to escort her home tomorrow, apologise to Andromeda for leaving her with the boys on such short notice, and collect Albus from Ron and Hermione's. Picking up Albus had been particularly tiring as Hermione had been most curious about Snape. It had taken Harry the better part of an hour to convince her that it would be in everyone's best interests if she delayed her visit until the weekend. It would at least give Snape and Harry's family the chance to settle in at Godric's Hollow, or so he hoped.

Harry shut the front door behind him and hung up his overcoat. Following the sound of excited voices he was not surprised to find all three boys outside in the garden, already in the air. Harry had long since given up enforcing the rule of supervised flying. It almost seemed counterproductive with a Weasley for a mother and a Potter for a father. Instead Harry had resorted to jinxing each of the boy's brooms to fly at an appropriate height for their age. Both James and Albus were naturals at flying and Harry couldn't be prouder of them, but he was well aware that it would be considered irresponsible if anyone ever found out he'd let his two- and three-year old sons fly unsupervised.

Still, Harry often reassured himself that he wasn't really letting them fly unsupervised as Teddy was almost always with the pair. Even at an early age, Harry had come to see Remus in Teddy. He was a competent flyer, although like Remus he wasn't overly obsessed with Quidditch. But the real similarity Harry noticed was that just as Remus had watched out for James and Sirius, Teddy had the same fierce loyalty towards Harry's sons and the same levelheadedness Harry had admired in Remus. In fact Harry was certain Teddy had stepped in numerous times to prevent James from doing something stupid whilst flying. It seemed his eldest son was as much a Quidditch fanatic as Ron Weasley had once been at that age.

Harry hid a smile as he watched James loop de loop, only turning away at the sound of Kreacher appearing beside him.

'Does Master Harry Potter wish to have lunch now?'

Harry nodded. Sparing his children one final glance he disappeared back inside, intent on ensuring Snape was where he'd left him.

XXXX

'I DON'T WANT TO!'

Harry let out a weary sigh as he watched his two year old son screaming on the living room floor, tears cascading down the hysterical child's face. He was far too tired to be dealing with a tantrum at present.

'Stop this nonsense at once, Albus!' he snapped angrily.

His demand was so sudden that Albus stopped crying and Teddy, who was seated in an armchair reading his class novel, looked up in surprise. It was rare for Harry to raise his voice at his children but he had no intention of bargaining with his son at present. James who was asleep on one of the couches stirred slightly but did not wake. He'd been so tired out from playing Quidditch that'd he'd fallen asleep directly following lunch.

'You know very well that it is nap time, Albus,' Harry continued wearily, lowering his voice slightly as he seated himself on the couch. 'Just like at home, one o'clock means nap time. Being at Godric's Hollow does _not_ change that and it does not mean you can spend all day playing on your broom. No one will be using their brooms until they've had a nap, understood?' he asked sternly.

It seemed his threat _was_ understood. Belatedly, Harry realised he'd been a little over zealous as Albus launched himself at him, tears of remorse cascading down the little boy's face, as he wrapped his arms securely around his father's neck.

'I'm sorry, Daddy,' Albus cried. 'I'm sorry. I'm sorry.'

'Shhh,' Harry murmured into the distraught toddler's hair.

He held him tightly, rocking him slightly as he smoothed the messy black hair off his son's forehead, in an attempt to calm him. Albus had worked himself into a right state. The tears had dried up, but Albus' breaths were still coming in great gasps as the little boy remained hysterical.

'It's alright Al,' he soothed worriedly, trying to calm his son. 'I'm just tired. I'm not really angry with you.'

Eventually, Albus' breathing eased and when Harry next looked down he found him sleeping peacefully. Without meaning to, Harry's eyes drifted shut of their own accord and within minutes he too was asleep.

XXXX

The light of the afternoon sun woke John from his potion-induced sleep. For a moment he lay still atop the bedspread, as the details of the previous day slowly came back to him. His eyes fell on the bookshelf as he sat up. _A Comprehensive Guide to the First and Second Wizarding Wars_ was gone, undoubtedly taken by Potter in the early hours of the morning. Unwillingly he was reminded of the contents of the thrice damned book. With effort, he shoved the thoughts away before they could take root once again. He did not think he could bear the shame of losing his composure once more in front of a virtual stranger. Satisfied that he had secured his wayward thoughts he stood to leave the room, intent on finding Potter.

John was scowling by the time he reached the ground floor. The house was silent and he had yet to stumble across Potter. Standing in the Entrance Hall his frown deepened as he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror above the fireplace. He looked like a vagabond. Dark stubble covered his jaw line and he was still wearing his work clothes, though they were hardly recognisable as such. The once startling white Pharmacist smock of _Boots Pharmacy_ looked as though it had aged ten years. Dried blood was speckled in a peculiar pattern across the front of his shirt, a testament to his previously broken nose. Half-heartedly he attempted to ease the creases from his trouser pants, but his efforts proved futile.

'Who are you?'

John straightened quickly and turned to find a young mousy-haired boy studying him curiously. The child had evidently just come from the kitchen as he was carrying a tub of yoghurt with him. He fixed the boy with a glare, annoyed that the child had caught him by surprise, and was pleased to see a look of uncertainty cross the boy's features.

'No one,' he said sharply before turning away from the brat.

He'd taken two steps towards the living room, when the boy stopped him once more.

'You must be _someone_ if Dad brought you here.'

John stopped in surprise, turning once more to face the insistent child. So this was another of Potter's children, John thought. Obviously this child had taken after the mother as there was no evidence of Potter in the boy's features. Still, John was surprised by how old the boy was. It seemed Potter had not hesitated in impregnating his wife early in their married life, he thought sardonically. The child before him had to be at least ten years old.

'I have no idea what you are talking about,' he sneered in an attempt to rid himself of the boy's presence.

Despite his tone his lack of understanding seemed to give the child confidence and John watched with disgust as the boy straightened, clearly pleased to know something John did not.

'Well, only family know about Godric's Hollow.'

'Godric's Hollow?' he whispered, his voice cracking slightly.

John's blood froze as a sense of horror filled him at the sound of the long forgotten name. He knew without a doubt that Godric's Hollow meant something to him. But he had no idea what. Unnerved by the bizarre response the name had caused he attempted to refocus on the boy before him.

'Yeah, the place where we are at the moment...' the boy trailed off unsurely, peering at John in concern.

'Are you alright sir?' he said suddenly, stepping closer.

John tried to snap at the boy, to tell him to leave him alone but his voice no longer seemed to be working. In fact a strange haze had settled over his vision and darkness seemed to be encroaching upon his peripheral vision. Vaguely he was aware of the boy racing away from him, calling out for his father. John ignored him, instead shaking his head slightly in an attempt to dislodge the ringing sound in his ears. Sluggishly his mind seemed to realise that he was about to faint. Distantly he felt his legs give way beneath him but before he could hit the floor he was grabbed from behind and carefully lowered to the ground.

Someone was peering at him, speaking urgently as they rapidly fired questions at him. He couldn't seem to understand them though. He felt someone lift his legs off the ground slightly and immediately the darkness and the buzzing began to retreat. As his mind cleared he recognised Potter. The man was crouched beside him but his attention was focused on his son, whom he was questioning intently in an attempt to discern the cause of John's sudden collapse. As the blood returned to his head, John hastened to sit up, desperate to get off the floor. His actions alerted Potter and once again John found himself the centre of attention.

'Careful,' Potter warned as John moved to stand. 'I don't think you should stand just yet.'

John shot the man a glare but obliged, aware that he would likely faint again if he got up too quickly. Potter, apparently satisfied that he would not move, returned his gaze to his son.

'Ted, why don't you take James and Al back outside?' he suggested. 'Tell Kreacher you can have afternoon tea and I'll come and join you soon, alright?'

The boy nodded solemnly, sparing John one final anxious glance, before disappearing into the living room. John frowned at the departing figure, he could have sworn the boy had brown hair but it appeared he'd been mistaken. The boy's hair was as black as his father's.

'Teddy says he simply asked who you were,' said Potter, interrupting John's thoughts. 'He has no idea why you would have collapsed. Do you recall what he said that upset you?'

'Save your concern, Potter,' John answered angrily, pushing the man aside as he shakily stood up. 'I cannot recall why the phrase _Godric's Hollow_ would mean anything to me. Now if you'll excuse me, I'd like to return to my home.'

Ignoring the fact that Potter seemed to comprehend exactly what he was talking about, John stormed to the front door, intent on leaving immediately. He wrenched the door open but Potter's voice stopped him at the threshold.

'You _will_ get your memories back John, I can promise you that.'

John paused, halfway out of the door, but he did not turn back.

'Can you?'

The words were out before he could stop them. A deafening silence met them and John closed his eyes in humiliation as he berated himself wordlessly. He couldn't believe he'd said that. He sounded like a whining child, he thought scathingly. The silence seemed to stretch on forever but still he remained rooted to the spot. His legs were unresponsive, rendering him incapable of fleeing – no matter how much he wished he could disappear.

A slight pressure on John's right shoulder caused him to open his eyes. He found himself face to face with Harry Potter. The younger man was studying him intently, the green eyes boring into John's own. For the briefest of seconds John had the bizarre idea that Potter could read his mind, but he dismissed the thought almost immediately as Potter blinked and the disconcerting feeling disappeared.

'Yes,' the man said simply.

He sounded so certain that John's doubts left him immediately.

'Well, John,' Potter said easily from beside him, his gaze fixed on the front lawn, 'shall I take you home?'

XXXX

Harry scanned the flat with a practiced eye. It was typical of government housing; confined and clinical in design. There were two bedrooms, a living area, kitchenette and a bathroom. The latter was currently occupied by Snape, who had taken the opportunity immediately upon arrival to clean himself up. It had only been upon Snape's announcement of his intention to shower that Harry had realised how lax a host he had been. At the very least he should have offered Snape a change of clothes, he'd noted belatedly.

Snape had secured himself in the bathroom almost ten minutes ago. At first, Harry had attempted to restrain his curiosity, remaining seated in the single rigid kitchen chair, but as the minutes passed by his resolve had weakened. Besides, he reasoned to himself, Snape could hardly complain; Harry knew very well – courtesy of his disturbed privacy charms – that Snape had searched Godric's Hollow extensively. Completing his cursory scan of the flat he left the kitchenette for the living area. All he had discerned from the kitchenette was that Snape was still as neat and ordered as ever, whilst the presence of a single dining chair spoke volumes.

Investigating the living room, Harry's suspicions that Snape had remained ostracised from the Muggle world for the past ten years deepened. Excluding the collection of books stashed on several small bookcases scattered about the room, there were no personal affects to speak of. Where the Potter's living room contained numerous photographs and knick-knacks belonging to various family members, Snape's was eerily empty. Surprisingly there was no television. Harry suspected some deep-rooted memory had led Snape to avoid acquiring the very Muggle device. Judging by the book collection though it seemed Snape had had more than enough reading material to occupy himself with. Crossing to one of the bookshelves Harry scanned the titles. All were Muggle, although it seemed Snape had a penchant for history, physics, and biochemistry.

Leaving the living room he opened one of the bedroom doors. His suspicions that Snape lived alone were confirmed as the door yielded to reveal a cluttered office. The sight of the bedroom turned office niggled uncomfortably at Harry. He couldn't help but feel guilty that Snape had been left alone for so very long. Crossing to the neatly kept desk, he thumbed through the stacked papers of receipts and bills. Finding nothing of interest he replaced the files and left the room, taking care to shut the door quietly behind him.

Standing in the hall, he glanced uneasily towards the closed bathroom door before returning his gaze to the one door he had yet to open. For a moment he considered turning away; respecting Snape's privacy and ignoring his own infernal curiosity. But he didn't. Instead he reached for the door handle.

The hairs on the back of his neck prickled instinctually as he grasped the cool door knob. In that second, Harry was suddenly certain that there was something in the room he needed to see. After all, there had to be more to John Smith than an empty, lonely apartment, he thought determinedly. Shoving the guilt aside Harry opened Snape's bedroom door.

As expected, the room was sparsely furnished with only a bed, a small night stand, and a tiny closet. Ignoring the closet Harry crossed straight to the night stand. A battered alarm clock shared the small space with several books, but it was the small blue-bound notebook that caught Harry's attention. Shifting the pen which rested on top, Harry extricated the notebook with care. Whatever the book was, it was clearly used frequently by Snape. The cover was well worn and creased where it had been opened numerous times. Without hesitation Harry flipped it open.

Page upon page was filled with hastily scribbled notes, all crammed together in the spiky cramped handwriting Harry recognised as his former Potion Master's. Harry flicked through the pages as quickly as he dared, aware that he was almost out of time. His brow furrowed the more he read, until he was frowning openly at the small blue-bound journal. The sound of the water shutting off startled him from his stupor. Remembering where he was his Auror training kicked in, and with reluctance he replaced the journal, returning the room to exactly how he had found it. With one last look at the room he shut the door quietly before swiftly returning to his seat in the kitchen.

Harry fiddled restlessly with his shirt cuff as he waited for Snape to reappear. He wasn't sure what to make of the small blue-bound notebook. John Smith had denied any recollection of the Wizarding World but the notebook suggested otherwise. It had not taken long for Harry to understand what he was reading, as familiar words that belonged entirely to the Wizarding World had leapt out at him from the pages of the notebook. Given where he had found the journal it had not taken a great leap of logic to realise Snape had clearly jotted down words and images that had featured in his dreams.

Letting out a despondent sigh Harry decided it had to be a good sign that Snape's subconscious at least seemed to know exactly who he was. Still, it was troubling to think that John Smith could not remember "Quidditch" when he had devoted several pages of his notebook to musings and drawings that were most definitely associated with the Wizarding sport. The sound of approaching footsteps alerted him to Snape's imminent arrival and with ease Harry shifted his troubled countenance into one of polite indifference. For now, he would ignore the journal. At least until he'd spoken to Madam Pomfrey.

The shower and change of clothes seemed to have relaxed Snape, Harry noted with relief as the man entered the kitchen. Still he did not miss the suspicious glance the man shot him, as if he was certain that Harry had moved whilst he'd been in the shower.

'So,' Harry said idly, ignoring the suspicious glance easily, 'do you wish to accept my offer?'

Snape moved further into the kitchen, putting his back to Harry as he stood leaning against the sink. He was silent for so long Harry was certain he was going to decline. But it seemed, despite his early morning reservations, that Snape truly did want his memories back. Snape turned to face him and Harry could see the raw emotion in the man's gaze. Beneath the confusion and hesitance, fierce determination blazed within the dark eyes.

'Yes,' Snape said simply.

Harry hid his relief at the man's acceptance. It meant Snape would come without resistance and without asking questions. Snape would be safe living with them. And that was what Harry wanted most. To be certain that no one else would die because of him.

XXXX

**A/N:** I apologise for the amount of time between updates! I haven't stopped either of my stories, I've just got a lot on my plate at present. I also just couldn't seem to get this chapter out for some reason - just a really slow one to write. I'll probably focus more on 'The Truth is Hidden in Memory' for the moment but I will update this story when I get the chance. Thanks for sticking with it. I really do appreciate it.

And just to keep you going...Coming up next chapter: Harry begins work with Snape on his memory, Sunday lunch with the family holds a few surprises and someone isn't impressed with Severus Snape.


	4. October 2008 II

**Chapter 4**

John served himself a modest portion of scrambled eggs from the steaming dish that occupied the Potter's dining table, all the while studying the occupants of the room with practiced indifference. Potter senior sat directly across from him; head buried deep within the morning paper, a mug of tea sitting abandoned by his right hand. John was surprised to see Potter was frowning slightly, clearly concerned by the article he was reading. The thought had barely crossed John's mind when Potter looked up to meet his gaze. It was so sudden that John had the distinct impression the man had felt his gaze. Potter watched him for a moment, before smiling tightly and deliberately tucking the newspaper away.

John scowled at the obvious slight, biting back the sharp retort which seemed to come so easily when he spoke with this man. After all, Potter had finally agreed last night that it was time to begin restoring John's memories. Arguing now would only sabotage the day, John conceded wisely. Still, he had no doubt that Potter had been up to something for the past two days.

No sooner had they returned from John's apartment then the man had disappeared off upstairs to send an urgent letter – the contents of which, John was certain, pertained to him. However, Potter had been unforthcoming and several arguments had followed. John's suspicions had increased though with the arrival of a letter the previous afternoon – the contents of which seemed to relieve Potter greatly. Add to that Potter's sudden turnaround over John's memories – well he wasn't a fool, he thought angrily. Whatever Potter was hiding, he _would_ find out.

John's musings were rudely interrupted though as one of the Potter brood had the audacity to pull himself up into the seat next him. Glancing sideways, John found himself gazing into the familiar, disconcerting, green eyes of two year old Albus. Alarmingly the toddler seemed to have taken a liking to John, and insisted on following him around whenever he was downstairs. John could not bring himself to scold the boy though and instead, had succumbed to listening quietly to the endless prattle characteristic of all children at that age. John watched the boy for a moment longer, before turning away and ignoring the child.

His gaze landed instead on Potter's eldest child: James. The boy looked much like his father; the same facial features and the same messy mop of hair, although it seemed his mother's red hair had had some say in the boy's dark auburn locks. He didn't have Potter's eyes either, John had been relieved to note. Unlike Albus, James seemed quite wary of John – always disappearing whenever John entered the same room as the boy. He suspected it had something to do with Teddy Lupin.

Discreetly he studied the quiet ten year old. He had been avoiding John since the incident in the entrance hall; undoubtedly wary of him after witnessing his collapse. John assumed James had been warned to stay away from him by the older boy. Teddy's hair was mousy-brown this morning, John noted absentmindedly. He still hadn't quite wrapped his mind around the idea of a Metamorphmagus but he knew now that the boy was not Potter's biological son. Potter's wife had explained to him the circumstances surrounding the boy's birth and the subsequent death of his parents. John had apparently known them both and worked closely with them at some point in his life, but he had no recollection of either Nymphadora or Remus Lupin. It was disconcerting to realise he had known these people but now had no idea how he had felt about them.

'Would sir like tea with that?'

John startled slightly, much to his own annoyance, and turned to face Potter's house elf.

'No,' he snapped immediately.

Kreacher was perhaps the most bizarre aspect of the past few days, John had decided. After ten years in the Muggle world, a house elf made him uneasy. One part of his mind was telling him that logically such a creature could not exist, whilst a much smaller part of his mind seemed to recognise the creature as 'normal'. It was a confusing feeling and the fact that the elf was able to move about so inconspicuously had John on edge. Running a hand through his hair in frustration he caught sight of Potter's hastily concealed disapproval and realised he had spoken rudely.

'No...thank you, Kreacher,' he muttered quietly.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Kreacher bow low before hurrying away. When he eventually raised his gaze again he found Potter studying him with a curious expression, but the younger man said nothing.

'Albus, that next spoonful of porridge better find its way into your mouth, or you will not be a happy boy, understood?'

John watched with amusement as Potter jumped out of his chair as his wife entered the kitchen. She was frowning at Albus, and looking over John saw she had good reason to. The boy had managed to spread a significant amount of his porridge across the table and himself, whilst he and Potter had been distracted. It seemed Kreacher had attempted to minimise the damage but had not been successful, if the porridge on the elf's snow white pillowcase was anything to go by.

'Harry, do try and keep your attention on the boys at breakfast,' Ginny admonished, as she handed the newest addition to the family to her chastised husband.

'Good morning, John,' she added as with a wave of her wand she vanished the mess surrounding Albus.

'Mrs Potter,' John replied neutrally, inclining his head slightly.

Potter, who had been distracted by the squirming infant in his arms, looked up with a cheerful grin at John's response – watching his wife expectantly.

'Ginny, will be fine,' the woman instructed coolly.

'If you insist...though perhaps Ginevra would be more appropriate?' he replied uncomfortably, having successfully evaded the issue the previous day.

Ginny raised an eyebrow at John before purposefully turning towards her husband, who was attempting to keep his amusement in check.

'You prat, Harry,' Ginny exclaimed, swatting Potter playfully. 'I can't believe you introduced me as Ginevra. You know very well only Aunt Muriel uses that name.'

'I'm sorry, I couldn't help it,' Potter admitted, looking far too pleased with himself.

'Yes, I imagine you couldn't,' Ginny replied dryly, sparing her husband one final disapproving look, although her affection was obvious, before turning back to John.

'Please call me Ginny,' she requested kindly. 'It seems much too formal to be known as "Mrs Potter" in my own home.'

John shifted uncomfortably. In _his_ opinion it seemed much too informal for him to call her anything other than Mrs Potter – he barely knew the woman! Potter had introduced him to his wife the previous morning, after collecting her from the hospital. Mrs Potter had given him an odd look when first she had laid eyes on him, and once again John had found himself at the disadvantage of having met someone whom already knew a very great deal about him. Apart from their strange meeting though, John found himself liking the woman. She had a level-head and seemed to understand John's need for distance. However, he was a guest in her home and he realised it would be rude to refuse her twice.

'As you wish,' he conceded.

'Excellent,' exclaimed Potter, standing from the table. 'If you are finished John, perhaps we could convene in my study?'

John nodded his assent, rising from his place. He watched as Potter returned the infant to Ginny. He murmured something to his wife, but it was too low for John to make out. Whatever it was caused her to look up at John though, and she offered a small smile as she caught him watching. Hiding the scowl that threatened to emerge at Potter's behaviour he inclined his head slightly towards the woman before following Potter out of the kitchen.

XXXX

Harry gestured for Snape to take one of the armchairs surrounding the fireplace as he let the man into his study, turning his back momentarily to rummage through his desk drawers. He could feel Snape's eyes boring into his back but he ignored the man. His gaze fell on the reply Madam Pomfrey had sent him the previous evening; he skimmed it briefly before putting it aside once again. After returning from Snape's flat Harry had written urgently to Madam Pomfrey, requesting her advice regarding the journal he had found. She had informed him that it was unusual but not alarming. To his relief she had promised to speak to Severus about it when she next saw him.

Harry paused as his fingers came into contact with the object he had been seeking. The wood warmed slightly as though it could sense Snape was close by. Smiling slightly, Harry tucked the wand surreptitiously into his robes before closing his desk drawer and turning back to face Snape. The man's attention however, had been captured by the Pensieve which sat on the low table situated between the two armchairs. The reflected glow of the memories danced across Snape's face, revealing his wonder at the device, but he was leaning perilously close to the surface of the memories and Harry stepped forward quickly to intervene. Placing a hand on Snape's shoulder he prevented the man from tumbling head-first into his memories.

'Not yet,' he said quietly, stepping around Snape to take his own seat.

'What is this?' Snape asked, appearing unsettled as he gestured towards the Pensieve.

'It is known as a Pensieve,' Harry explained. 'It is a device for storing and viewing one's memories.'

'It seems familiar...,' Snape muttered. '_You..._and the Pensieve...'

'Yes, I'm not surprised it does,' Harry agreed quietly, remembering the time he had broken into Snape's Pensieve.

He had no doubt that it was that particular memory which had given Snape the unsettled feeling. Madam Pomfrey had warned him that emotions and memories were intricately linked. In this case Harry suspected that Snape's mind had recalled the emotions he'd felt the last time he'd seen Harry Potter and a Pensieve in the same room but was unable to link the correct memory to the sudden emotions.

'What I mean to do,' Harry began, breaking the silence that had fallen between the two men, 'is to return your memories to you in the order in which they were given to me. To do so, I will have to enter your mind.'

'How?' Snape asked uncertainly.

'I will explain the intricacies of Legilimency – the art of entering another's mind – momentarily,' Harry replied patiently. 'Before I do though, you need to have some understanding of how your amnesia came about.'

Snape nodded sharply, and Harry continued.

'We believe all of your memories prior to your injury are being repressed by your subconscious. When you imparted these select memories to me,' here Harry gestured towards the Pensieve, 'you did so without a wand. That is not the normal protocol. Without a wand it is almost impossible to expel intact and comprehensible memories. Despite the fact that you were _dying,_ you were able to do so.'

Harry broke off as the events of that terrible night came back to him. To this day he had no idea how Snape had found the willpower to impart his memories to Harry. He had never felt more helpless in his life then he had that night in the Shrieking Shack. Harry doubted he would ever forget the feeling of Snape's weakening grip on his jacket as the man had struggled to cling to life. And as Snape lay dying before him Harry's seventeen-year old self had been incapable of acting to save the man. Instead he had simply remained frozen as the Potion's master bled out before him. Shaking himself out of his macabre thoughts, Harry could not help but feel relieved to find Snape occupying his armchair.

'A truly remarkable feat indeed,' Harry murmured aloud.

Harry's muttered comment broke the silence, startling Snape from his own thoughts. The man looked pale, undoubtedly uncomfortable with the realisation of how close he had come to death that day.

'However, the fact remains that you _were_ upon the brink of death,' Harry continued grimly. 'We believe that in your declining state, having just parted with several life-changing memories, your mind perceived itself to be under threat and acted to preserve what it could of your memories. In doing so it repressed your remaining memories subconsciously – locking them away until the threat had passed.'

Harry broke off, watching the ashen-faced Snape with concern. The man seemed at a loss for words as he attempted to understand what Harry was telling him.

'How...,' Snape asked hoarsely, 'how did I survive?'

'It's complicated,' Harry admitted, running a hand through his messy hair. 'I don't know all of the details myself – you will have to talk to the Headmaster – however, I understand that at some point before your injury you unwittingly became the master of a house elf. Suffice it to say that the bond between master and elf is such that if you were to be fatally injured, the elf would know. You were, and the elf found you. Obeying his orders the house-elf used his own unique brand of magic to heal you enough to save your life, before taking you to a Muggle hospital. Once he had completed the order the house-elf re-entered Hogwarts service and was forbidden from revealing you as his previous master. It was not anticipated that you would suffer amnesia,' Harry trailed off regretfully.

Snape stood abruptly, and Harry watched as the man moved swiftly to stand by the window, crossing his arms tightly across his torso as he stared out at the grounds that lay before him. Harry remained where he was, recognising that Snape needed space.

'I suppose I should be grateful for my life...' Snape murmured without turning around, his gaze fixed on some point in the distance.

Harry said nothing, certain that Snape had been merely speaking aloud. Finally, Snape turned around.

'I need my memories,' he said determinedly. 'I need to understand.'

Harry met Snape's steadfast gaze. A myriad of emotions flickered deep within the man's eyes: confusion, anger, resentment, and bitterness – all threatening to overwhelm. But there was hope as well, hidden deep beneath an almost palpable desire to reclaim his identity. Finally, Harry nodded and Snape returned to his armchair.

'How will these memories help?' Snape asked gesturing towards the Pensieve.

Harry followed the gesture, his gaze alighting on the Pensieve for a single moment. A younger Snape's face, twisted with grief, swirled just below the surface but it was gone before Harry could blink. He frowned slightly before returning his attention to Snape.

'Do you remember what Poppy told us?' Harry asked distractedly. 'How each of these memories is a trigger?'

'Yes.'

'Your subconscious mind is still acting as though it were under threat and is actively repressing your memories,' Harry explained. 'It will continue to do so until these particular memories,' Harry gestured towards the Pensieve, 'are returned. The difficulty, per se, is that we are dealing with your subconscious mind. It means I cannot simply return the memories to your mind,' Harry admitted gravely.

'What do you mean?' Snape asked darkly, his eyes narrowing slightly.

'The subconscious mind is vastly different from that of the conscious mind,' Harry answered quietly, his gaze fixed once more upon the Pensieve, watching the memories swirl within.

Snape scowled at the non-answer, but Harry spoke before he could voice his frustration.

'If I were to enter your mind this moment,' Harry began, his gaze still fixed on the Pensieve, 'it would be much the same as if I were to enter Ginny's mind or Poppy's mind. I would have access to your thoughts and memories and you would know that I was in your mind. In turn, you would be capable of manipulating those thoughts or memories. You could hide what you did not want me to know, mask your emotions, implant false memories. In short, you have complete control over your conscious mind,' Harry finished, pulling his gaze away from the Pensieve to meet Snape's intense stare.

'The subconscious mind,' he continued seriously, 'is entirely individual and utterly beyond your control. It is, in essence, the very embodiment of your "self".'

Harry paused, letting his words sink in. For this to work, Snape needed to be aware of what he was agreeing to. Harry had no intention of entering the man's subconscious with anything other than wholly informed consent. To his surprise, Snape raised no objection. His gaze remained steadfastly fixed on Harry, free of doubt.

'You should understand,' Harry began, his tone lighter, 'that very few wizards attempt to access the subconscious, and of those that try even fewer succeed.'

'Why?' Snape asked, frowning slightly at the new information.

'For the simple reason,' answered Harry, 'that you would not enter the subconscious mind unless it was absolutely necessary. Although I said you have no conscious control or ability to force me from your subconscious that does not mean that it is defenceless. In fact, if what I have read is to be believed, the defences of the subconscious mind are not to be underestimated. Few wizards attempt to find the subconscious purely because it is both harder to find and more rigorously defended than the conscious mind. Plus the information the Legilimens seeks is much more likely to be present in the conscious mind, thus there is no need to explore the subconscious.'

'You believe you would be capable of entering my subconscious?' Snape asked, after a moment's silence.

'Normally, no,' Harry admitted. 'However, you're forgetting the trigger memory. In this case I simply intend to "follow the leader", so to speak.'

'I see.'

'Indeed,' Harry agreed quietly.

After a moment's hesitation he continued.

'At this point, neither you nor I have any idea what form your subconscious will take. Nor can I predict the defences. It is almost certain that I will have to breach aspects of your defence at some point. You would have to trust that I will act for the best. Do you think you can do that?'

Snape searched Harry's gaze for a long moment. Finally, he nodded.

'You're offering me my life back,' he said simply.

Harry spared the man a small smile, understanding how difficult this was for him. John Smith might not remember his name, but he was still the same man. And Severus Snape rarely asked for help. Standing briskly, Harry indicated that Snape should do the same.

'No time like the present,' he muttered under his breath, as he pulled his wand out.

Reflexively Snape's right hand twitched towards his own pocket, seeking the wand he had not held for ten years. It seemed Snape's muscle memory was still intact, Harry was pleased to note. Refocusing on the task at hand, Harry steadied his wand and looked directly at Snape.

'_Legilimens!'_

The incantation pulled him forward and suddenly Harry found himself immersed within Snape's thoughts. He had barely a second to register Snape's surprise and confusion before he was hurled away – back into his own mind. His own memories flashed before him.

_A proud Mr Weasley was walking a radiant Ginny down the aisle towards him...He was holding James, only minutes after he'd been born, smiling in wonder at the realisation that he was a father...Ron was laughing as Harry attempted to teach a two-year old Teddy how to fly...He was kneeling before his parent's graves.._

'_Enough_,' Harry thought resignedly, '_no more_.'

Harry was breathing heavily as he picked himself up off the floor. Somehow his glasses had fallen off. Blearily he reached for them, relieved to find they weren't broken as the world came back into focus. Snape was still standing, seemingly in shock.

'Did you mean to block me?' Harry asked curiously as he stood up.

It took Snape a moment to realise Harry was talking to him.

'No,' he murmured, his confusion evident.

'Very well,' Harry answered calmly, 'let's try again. This time, if you can, try not to fight me.'

Snape nodded slightly, watching Harry closely.

'_Legilimens!'_ cried Harry.

This time he put all of his willpower behind the spell, forcing himself determinedly into Snape's mind. He was stopped almost instantly, brought up short as though he'd run headlong into a brick wall. Harry was still reeling from the shock of Snape's resistance when a force slammed into him, throwing him from Snape's mind. The force was enough to send him flying across the room until he slammed painfully into his own bookshelf.

Harry let out a groan, as stars danced across his vision. He remained where he was, slumped against the shelves, his eyes closed as he waited for the world to stop spinning.

'Potter! Potter, open your eyes!'

Someone was calling his name, he realised, although it sounded as if it were coming from a great distance. He felt someone grasp his shoulder.

''M alright,' he mumbled.

With a herculean effort he forced his eyes open and to his surprise found himself facing a concerned Severus Snape. Rubbing the sore spot on the back of his head, he let out a sigh.

'Well I guess I should have expected that,' he admitted.

Snape frowned, waiting for him to elaborate.

'I suspected I'd have difficultly entering your mind because your magic is not yet under control. Admittedly, I did not anticipate such an extensive defence but I believe given your previous affinity for Occlumency and Legilimency it is not altogether surprising. Your accidental magic _will_ continue to block me until you learn to control it. Which is why,' Harry continued, cutting Snape off before he could voice his frustrations, 'I think you'll need this.'

Getting to his feet Harry withdrew Snape's wand from his jacket pocket and handed it, handle first, to its owner. Snape seemed to recognise the wand and reached for it without hesitation. The moment his fingers grasped the wand a shower of gold and silver sparks erupted from the wand, surrounding Snape for a single moment before they faded into nothingness.

'It would seem you certainly still have your wand's allegiance,' Harry commented dryly.

The comment was lost on Snape though as he continued to stare in bemusement at his wand. Eventually he seemed to recall that Harry was still in the room.

'How will the wand help?' Snape asked huskily.

'Accidental magic recedes once children are given a wand,' Harry explained. 'As they're taught how to manipulate and direct their magic they no longer have bouts of accidental magic. The same applies for you. Once you begin to master what you have forgotten, we won't have to worry about accidental magic.'

'How long will it take?' Snape asked, his gaze fixed entirely upon his wand as he examined it wholly, memorising the details he had forgotten.

'Oh I shouldn't think it'll take too long to get your control back,' Harry replied easily, causing Snape to look up in surprise. 'It's likely that you will have trouble mastering the spells for quite a while but it's simply the control you need. We should be able to attempt restoring a memory tomorrow, if all goes well.'

Snape nodded, once again lost deep in thought but he followed as Harry led the way back over to the armchairs. With a flick of his wand Harry conjured a feather, guiding it to rest on the small table.

'We'll begin with "_Wingardium Leviosa"_.'

XXXX

John stalked into the kitchen, scowling darkly. He slammed his wand down on the table before sinking into a chair, his head slumping forward into his hands. Why was he having such difficulty, he thought angrily. They were simple charms – all of them had appeared second nature to Potter – but John had barely managed to master them. The worst of it was that Potter's patience had been endless. Despite the fact that they had spent nearly eight hours closeted together in Potter's study, not once had Potter shown any sign of frustration at John's slow pace. No, the younger man had simply shown him the charms over and over again until John had mastered them. In contrast John's patience had diminished rapidly, to the point where he'd stormed out of the study simply to stop himself from taking his frustrations out on Potter. Letting out a despondent sigh, John pushed the thoughts away. It was useless to dwell on such irrational feelings.

The sound of the fireplace roaring to life jolted John back to the present. Without thinking he snatched his wand off the table, whirling around to level it at the new arrival. As the newcomer stepped out of the fireplace, John realised he recognised the witch. Belatedly he lowered his wand as Evelyn Hughes turned to face him. The woman raised an eyebrow as she caught sight of John's wand.

'Expecting someone in particular, Snape? Or do you simply intend to curse the next person through the floo?' she asked dryly.

John frowned at the use of Snape.

'You took me by surprise,' he finally ground out, shoving his wand into his trouser pocket.

Evelyn studied him for a moment longer, seemingly assessing the legitimacy of his statement.

'As you say, Snape,' she agreed impassively.

Silence descended on the pair and John reigned in the urge to fidget uncomfortably as Hughes continued to study him icily. He had to stop himself from stepping backwards though when she suddenly closed the distance between them. John was determined that he would not be intimidated by this woman.

'If you ever did find yourself wishing to reconnect with your _old _friends,' Evelyn began dangerously, her voice barely above a whisper, 'I'm quite certain they would be delighted to catch up with you. Although, I'm not sure how pleased they'd be to see you alive again, why I'd almost –'

'_Evelyn!_'

The low warning came from the doorway, and John turned with relief to see Potter.

'Ah, there you are Harry,' said Evelyn, her tone suddenly light as she stepped away from John, although her piercing gaze never left him. 'I was just catching up on old times with Snape.'

Potter stepped into the room, frowning slightly. His gaze lingered concernedly on John for a moment, as though he were waiting for John to contradict Hughes' statement. Finally, he turned to face the newly arrived witch.

'Has something happened?' he asked brusquely.

Evelyn eyed John for a moment longer before turning her attention to Potter. Something passed between the pair and John watched as Potter's brow darkened.

'Perhaps you could excuse us for a moment John?' Potter requested tightly.

When Potter made no move to leave the kitchen, John surmised that he was expected to leave instead. Not bothering to hide his annoyance he stormed from the kitchen. He made a point of walking halfway up the stairs before turning around and silently backtracking to the kitchen. Standing just outside the doorway he had no qualms over eavesdropping on Potter and Hughes conversation.

'...my home, I would ask that you call him John Smith until such a time as he decides otherwise,' Potter was saying.

'I hardly see the point,' Evelyn countered shrewdly, 'but I will refrain from antagonising him, if that's what you're asking. However, you must accept that I cannot refer to him as "John Smith". The name is far too Muggle for Severus Snape.'

'You're being ridiculously prejudiced, Eva,' Potter replied sternly. 'Snape didn't buy into that Pureblood rubbish.'

There was silence for a long moment and John heard someone sigh loudly.

'Harry,' Evelyn said wearily, 'I respect what you're trying to do but you _do not_ know Severus Snape. No, listen to me. _You_ may have had ten years to forgive him but _he _won't have moved on. You're still James Potter's son, Harry, and that is how he will _always_ see you. He spent seventeen years hating you simply because you existed – because of what you represented – do you really think he is capable of anything else?'

There was a pause.

'People change, Evelyn,' Potter murmured quietly. 'Merlin knows I have.'

Potter let out an exasperated sigh as he stumbled to find the right words.

'Snape's had ten years with no identity, Evelyn. Ten years spent wondering who he was. If that doesn't change you...'

Potter trailed off.

'You're not convinced?' he asked wryly.

John couldn't see Evelyn but he assumed Potter was interpreting the woman's expression.

'No,' she replied honestly. 'I've known him a lot longer than you have Harry.'

Potter was silent, and John wondered what was happening.

'We shall have to agree to disagree,' Evelyn said abruptly, a hint of annoyance creeping into her tone. 'I only ask that you consider what I've said. I don't want to see you get hurt, Harry,' she added sincerely.

'Alright,' Potter agreed hesitantly.

There was a short pause before Potter continued.

'I assume your visit was about work?'

'Yes. I trust you saw the article in this morning's Prophet?'

Potter murmured an assent, but John was surprised to note the man sounded troubled.

'It has become obvious that we are no longer dealing with amateurs,' Evelyn began grimly. 'Whoever they are, they understand the politics of our world very well. They have been very wise to keep their attacks confined to the Muggle world. Not only have they assured that the Wizarding world will pay little attention but they have provided themselves with ample opportunity to establish an organisation which will be very hard to undermine. The subtlety is not unlike that which Voldemort employed in the early years of the First Wizarding War.'

'The article is certainly clever,' Harry agreed. 'There is no outright declaration, but read in a certain way, it is quite clear that he is advocating Wizarding supremacy. You would miss it if you were not already aware of what has been happening,' he finished matter-of-factly.

'Which is why I want you to investigate this when you get back to work,' Evelyn stated evenly.

There was silence. John expected Potter to speak up but was surprised when Evelyn continued.

'I do not want it known that you are investigating these attacks,' she said. 'This group is a significant threat – the likes of which has not troubled us for the past ten years. We need every advantage we can get and I happen to know that you are more than capable of conducting your own investigation on the side.'

Potter mumbled something which elicited a laugh from Evelyn.

'Harry, you may have managed to allocate resources to your little project without anyone in the Auror Department knowing, but you forget that I have full access to _all _of your records. You can imagine my surprise then, when I had no recollection of signing off on a project dedicated to finding Severus Snape.'

'I should have told you,' Potter murmured apologetically.

'Well, this time you'll have my approval,' Evelyn continued amicably. 'I want this kept strictly between you and I though, until I say otherwise.'

'What about Ben?' Potter asked, sounding surprised.

'No,' Evelyn replied adamantly. 'There's no need for Hatchman or Weasley to know yet.'

Potter sounded as though he were going to object.

'This is not a matter of trust, Potter,' the woman continued sternly. 'You know full well that I would trust them both with my life. However, this is a delicate matter; the fewer people who know, the better. I do _not_ want to provide our enemy with any more of an advantage than what they already have. I did not mention it before, but I strongly suspect that the group is being run by former Death Eaters.'

Potter cursed loudly.

'I will make it my priority when I return to work,' Potter promised. 'Is there anything else?'

'Oh, yes,' Evelyn spoke up brightly, and John surmised that the work discussion was over. 'I thought I'd offer to take Al until Sunday if you like? I know you've got your hands full with Lily and Snape and Merlin knows I don't see my Godson enough.'

'Ben wouldn't mind?' Potter asked hopefully.

'Of course not, he loves the little fellow.'

'I'll check with Ginny, but you'd certainly be doing us a favour Eva,' Potter continued. 'Actually, why don't you come up now and see Lily and Gin?'

At those words, John moved swiftly away from the door. Silently he ascended the steps to his own room. Behind him he could hear Potter and Hughes chatting animatedly as they made their way up the stairs. Closing the door behind him, he sat on the edge of his bed. Head in hands there was only one thought on his mind: he needed his memories back.

XXXX

Harry smiled fondly as he watched the boys working in the garden under the supervision of Ginny. His wife was seated on the patio, nursing Lily as she flicked through a Quidditch magazine. Ginny was still recovering from giving birth and so Harry had suggested the boys work on the garden for their mother. It was a beautiful day out after all. The sky was clear and it was almost hot enough to swim in the small lake at the bottom of the property. However, it was not to be. Stepping away from the window, lest he become too enthralled with the outside world, he strode over to select a book from the shelves that lined his office. Sinking into his favoured armchair he waited patiently for Snape to appear.

Punctual as always, Harry had barely read two pages before Snape stepped into his office, knocking politely on the door frame to alert Harry to his presence.

'Ah, there you are John,' he said, putting aside his book. 'I trust you slept well?'

Snape simply inclined his head, seemingly uninterested in making small talk. Instead, he sank stiffly into the seat he had occupied yesterday. He looked tired. Judging by the scowl lurking on the man's brow though, Harry realised it would be impractical to enquire about his former Professor's health at the present time. Filing the information away for a more suitable moment, he stood and collected the Pensieve from his desk drawer. Snape's attention was captured immediately by the alluring device and he watched intently as Harry placed it on the table between them.

'I will attempt once more to breach your mind,' Harry explained as he fished his wand out of his inner pocket. 'Despite how it may have seemed to you yesterday, I am confident that you now have enough control over your abilities to allow me access.'

Snape flushed slightly at the veiled reference to his behaviour the previous day but stood to face Harry without complaint.

'_Legilimens!_'

He was immersed within Snape's mind immediately. Harry could feel Snape's wariness and anxiety as the man reacted to the foreign presence. For a moment, he was certain Snape's mind would expel him as a mental tidal wave bore down upon him. At the last second though, he felt Snape gain control. Instantly the pressing force vanished as Snape consciously pulled back – allowing Harry entry. Satisfied, he pushed deeper into Snape's mind intent on testing the man's boundaries. Memories flashed before him but he ignored them in favour of testing Snape's tolerance to his presence.

After several long minutes in Snape's mind, Harry retreated. He was well aware of how uncomfortable Legilimency was and he could feel Snape's agitation. Just as he made to pull back though, he was distracted by a memory. Surprised, Harry watched as Snape crouched outside the kitchen door, listening intently to the conversation between Harry and Evelyn which had occurred the previous evening. A conversation Harry had thought was private.

Pulling back sharply Harry blinked as Snape came into focus before him. He seemed pale and Harry noted the dark colouring beneath the man's eyes.

'Did you see everything I saw?' Snape asked hoarsely, as he sank into his armchair.

'Flashes of it,' Harry replied tersely.

'Then it was successful? You can return my memories now?'

'Yes, I was certainly able to access your mind,' Harry replied evasively, deep in thought over the memory he had just witnessed.

Evelyn had been rather heavy-handed with her comments regarding Snape, Harry recalled but he had not realised the man himself had heard her. It was unfortunate as Harry had no desire to see the pair at each other's throats. Snape could not yet recall but Evelyn Hughes had been a contemporary of his at Hogwarts. In fact, she had shared a dormitory with Harry's mother – Lily Potter. They had not been close friends, Harry had been surprised to learn, but they had been friends. His mother's best friend had apparently been Mary MacDonald, whilst Evelyn's friends had tended to come from other Houses. He suspected Evelyn and Lily's relationship was similar to the one Hermione had shared with Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil but perhaps slightly less antagonistic as Evelyn had never shown any interest in James Potter.

Still he had been rather surprised by Evelyn's apparent dislike of the Potion's master. She was normally much more mild-mannered and quite diplomatic with her feelings. Harry had put it down to long standing Gryffindor/Slytherin rivalry but even he wasn't sure if that was entirely the case. Dismissing the distracting thoughts, Harry returned his attention to Snape.

'I see no reason to delay,' he continued. 'I will attempt to return a memory now.'

Standing over the Pensieve, Harry sifted through the memories before deftly extracting the first of them. The memory clung to the tip of his wand as he turned to face Snape. He was still sitting, looking suddenly unsure of himself but as Harry approached and Snape caught sight of the memory, his unease disappeared.

'Are you ready?' Harry asked.

Snape nodded without hesitation, standing so that he was facing Harry.

'Alright,' Harry breathed out, mostly to himself.

Taking one steadying breath, Harry brought his wand up to rest against Snape's temple. He watched as Snape's eyes widened as the memory returned to its owner. Without pause, Harry followed.

'_Legilimens!_'

XXXX

Harry pushed forcefully into Snape's mind, aware that he had seconds to follow the memory he had just returned. He ignored the surface thoughts that jumped out at him, casting them aside roughly as he plunged deeper and deeper into Snape's mind. He was falling quickly now and alarmingly he realised he could no longer pull back. He could only hope that he was following the memory he had returned, for whatever was happening there was now only one way forward.

Harry wasn't sure how long he had been falling for but he was certain that he was close to the border of Snape's conscious and subconscious minds. His surroundings seemed to be getting darker and there were fewer thoughts and memories. The realisation had barely crossed his mind when everything disappeared. It was as though he'd crossed some kind of invisible barrier. All sensation had disappeared and for the first time since he'd dived into Snape's mind, Harry was uneasy. There was no time for second thoughts though as the surroundings shifted about him once more. Light returned suddenly and Harry blinked rapidly as his eyes adjusted. It took a moment for him to remember that he was still in Snape's mind – for he appeared to be outside.

The sun was shining brightly and with a start Harry realised he was hovering, somehow, high in mid air. Looking down, he could see rows upon rows of houses. From the air they appeared tiny – almost like doll's houses. A huge chimney loomed over the houses and a dirty river wound a course idly through the landscape. Harry hoped fervently that whatever mystery force was holding him up continued to do so.

It seemed Snape's subconscious had other plans though.

Harry let out a startled yelp as the force holding him up disappeared and he began to fall in earnest. With a thrill of horror, Harry watched as the ground raced up to meet him. Automatically he reached for his wand, fumbling through his coat pocket as he continued to hurtle towards the ground. His wand was nowhere to be found though, which was when Harry remembered he was in Snape's subconscious – his wand did not exist here. The thought was not a comforting one. In a last ditch attempt to slow his headlong rush, Harry spread his limbs out.

However, his actions were unnecessary.

At the last second before impact he was brought up short to float a metre or so above the ground. Harry breathed a sigh of relief before unexpectedly being dropped the last few metres. All the air rushed out of his lungs as he landed on his stomach. He let out a groan as he rolled onto his back. The last time he'd been this badly winded was when Teddy had crashed into him whilst learning to fly. Closing his eyes against the brilliant sunlight, Harry fought back the nausea and willed himself not to vomit. The ground felt warm and, surprisingly, soft he noted as the nausea began to fade. Blindly reaching out a hand, Harry frowned as his fingers came into contact with grass.

'Where am I?' he muttered aloud.

Opening his eyes, he gingerly pulled himself into a sitting position as he took in his surroundings. It did not take him long to realise where he was.

He had never been to this particular playground before but he recognised it easily enough. It was the playground where Snape had first met Harry's mother. In fact, if Harry wasn't mistaken he appeared to have landed in the very memory he had been trying to catch up with. Frowning, Harry paused for a moment to take in the situation. He had not expected to end up in the memory. Pulling himself up, he glanced over to where the younger versions of Snape, Lily and Petunia were gathered around the swings. None of them appeared to have witnessed his arrival. That was to be expected if he were truly in Snape's memory but something about the entire situation had Harry on edge.

Crouching low, Harry jogged into the nearby trees that surrounded the park. He didn't want to be seen yet but he knew he needed to know what was going on. Silently he made his way around the edge of the park. To his annoyance Snape and his companions were standing near a particularly sparse area of parkland. There was a single wide oak though that Harry was sure would hide him from view and so throwing caution to the wind he dashed, as inconspicuously as he could, behind the tree. The children were several feet in front of him, oblivious to his presence as they continued to argue. Listening intently, Harry paled slightly as familiar words reached him.

'_You _are,_' said Snape to Lily. 'You _are_ a witch. I've been watching you for a while. But there's nothing wrong with that. My mum's one, and I'm a wizard.'_

_Petunia's laugh was like cold water._

'_Wizard!' she shrieked, her courage returned now that she had recovered from the shock of his unexpected appearance. '_I _know who _you_ are. You're that Snape boy! They live down Spinner's End by the river,' she told Lily, and it was evident from her tone that she considered the address a poor recommendation. 'Why have you been spying on us?'_

'_Haven't been spying,' said Snape, hot and uncomfortable and dirty-haired in the bright sunlight. 'Wouldn't spy on _you_, anyway,' he added spitefully, '_you're_ a Muggle.'_

_Though Petunia evidently did not understand the word, she could hardly mistake the tone._

'_Lily, come on, we're leaving!' she said shrilly. Lily obeyed her sister at once, glaring at Snape as she left._

Harry risked a glance from behind the tree at Snape, as the unkempt boy watched the Evan's sisters disappear through the playground gate. He could tell the boy was bitterly disappointed as he kicked at the ground, muttering angrily under his breath. After some time he seemed to get himself under control and Harry was certain he would follow the girls out of the park but he didn't. Instead he turned sharply and looked directly at Harry.

'You shouldn't be here.'

Harry hid his surprise well, only just managing to stop himself reaching for his missing wand. He hadn't expected the boy to see him and yet the certainty with which Snape had spoken gave him the impression he had known Harry was there all along. Snape looked annoyed. Clearly he expected some kind of response.

'You can see me?' Harry asked, disbelief colouring his tone.

'Obviously.'

Harry held back a laugh. The child before him sounded eerily like his older counterpart. In fact Harry was certain it was the same condescending tone Professor Snape had regularly used to address his students with. Snape didn't seem to appreciate his humour though. The boy scowled before turning abruptly and walking away.

'Where are you going?' Harry called out after the boy, automatically following him.

His words brought Snape up short. As he approached the child Harry was surprised to see Snape was breathing heavily, and when he turned to face Harry he seemed furious.

'You need to leave!' Snape stated coldly.

Harry stared at the boy in surprise. He was out of his depth here simply because he had no idea how to interact with this Snape. The child seemed to take his silence as acceptance though and with one final scowling look Snape walked away. The glare was not up to the usual standards of the Potion's master though. The boy's disappointment and bitterness was obvious and in that second Harry realised that whatever projection of Snape this child was, he was still just that: a child. With that realisation, all of Harry's uncertainty disappeared.

'I can't,' he murmured softly.

He was not aware that he had spoken aloud but the whole world seemed to freeze around him, as though it were waiting upon tenterhooks for him to continue. It had been softer than a whisper but Snape had stopped abruptly the moment the words had passed Harry's lips. The silence was oppressive. Standing straighter, Harry looked directly at Snape although the boy's back was to him.

'I can't leave,' he stated again with certainty. 'I'm sorry, but I'm trying to help you.'

The moment the words passed his lips the world seemed to sigh with relief as it suddenly came back to life. Harry let out his own relieved breath. He had to remember that this was Snape's subconscious. The normal rules of reality did not apply here. He was distracted from his thoughts as Snape turned to face him. Since he had been here the boy had never looked more child-like than he did now. He looked befuddled, as though he couldn't quite understand what Harry had been talking about.

'Why?' he asked. 'No one ever tries to help.'

Harry stiffened. The boy's innocent curiosity reminded him of his own sons. Thankfully, none had ever asked such a question of their father but in that moment Harry forgot that this boy was the embodiment of a forty-eight year old man. Instead, he approached the boy as though he were Teddy or James or Albus. As though he were simply a child.

Harry did not miss the slight flash of fear that crossed the boy's face as he closed the distance between them. Silently he cursed the adults who had destroyed Snape's childhood. Crouching down beside Snape, Harry reached out and grasped the nine year old loosely by the arms. Looking directly into Snape's dark eyes, he spoke.

'Everyone deserves to be helped Severus,' he said earnestly. 'Don't you _ever_ forget that.'

Snape was staring at him with wide eyes but eventually the little boy nodded.

'Good boy,' Harry said fondly, reaching out to ruffle the boy's hair.

The gesture was so familiar to him that it was automatic. It was only afterwards when he caught sight of Snape's surprised gaze that he remembered the child before him was not one of his sons. Standing abruptly in embarrassment, Harry shoved his hands deep into his coat pockets and studied the horizon with feigned interest whilst internally berating himself. It was quite clear now that he needed to find Snape's memories as quickly as possible. The less time he spent in Snape's subconscious, the better for all. Turning back to Snape, he was surprised to find the boy studying him thoughtfully.

'Do you know where your memories are?' Harry asked quietly, ignoring the feeling that he was somehow being appraised.

Snape ignored his question. Harry was just about to ask again when the boy spoke up.

'Prove it,' he said seriously, studying Harry with a solemn facade.

'Pardon?'

'Prove you mean you want to help me.'

'I'm trying to,' Harry replied confusedly. 'I want to help you find your memories.'

'You _have_ to prove it.'

Harry could tell Snape was becoming frustrated at his slow uptake but he really had no idea what the boy was trying to tell him.

'I'm sorry,' he admitted hopelessly. 'I don't understand.'

His pronouncement was met with silence and Harry watched with dismay as Snape's face fell. Eerily, the sunlight which had been streaming into the playground began to fade as storm clouds began to roll in. The wind began to pick up and Harry pulled his cloak tighter about him as the world darkened around them. It was almost as though the weather were reflecting Snape's mood. Glancing back down at the boy though, Harry wasn't entirely sure. The obvious disappointment had disappeared. Instead Snape was studying him sadly. The weary expression left Harry feeling uncomfortable. It was far too old an expression for a child to ever wear.

'I must leave,' Snape said suddenly.

Before Harry could stop him the boy had run away, disappearing out onto the street. Harry remained where he was for a moment longer as he considered his options. He didn't particularly like the way the sky was darkening. Buttoning his jacket, he glanced down the road to where he could see Snape just about to round the corner. The boy was running as though his life depended on it. Figuring that his best chance of finding the memories lay with Snape, Harry started to jog after him.

Specks of rain began to fall as Harry pounded down the road. The drops were beginning to cover his glasses and he strained to make out Snape in the gathering gloom. He felt like he'd been running for hours but he still hadn't caught up with Snape. The boy always seemed to be a street or two ahead of him. At one point Harry had lost sight of him and had had to double back when he'd taken a wrong turn.

It was pouring in earnest by the time Harry turned onto Spinner's End. Snape had already disappeared into his house but Harry didn't need to see to know which house belonged to the Snape's. He pulled up short beneath the street sign, and bent over gasping as he tried to catch his breath. He was soaked to the bone and he shivered slightly now that he had stopped running. With his stitch gone, Harry began to walk slowly down the long row of houses until he reached Snape's.

The house looked the same as it had the day Harry had gone to visit. A few months after the Final Battle Harry had had all of Snape's assets frozen, certain that one day the man would need them again. It was whilst filling out the paperwork that he had come across the Muggle house. Curious, he'd apparated to the location. Snape's wards had kept him out though and Harry had simply been satisfied to note the building was still standing. At present though he was determined to speak with Snape again and so did not hesitate to approach the front door.

Harry frowned slightly as he found the door ajar. His sense of foreboding increased as he heard the tell tale signs of a scuffle and muffled shouting. He wasted no time in pushing the door open fully and quietly entering the house. The noises became louder and Harry followed the sounds up the hallway, stopping outside a closed door.

'GET OUT OF MY SIGHT YOU LITTLE SHIT!'

The door was thrown wide open and a terrified Snape came barrelling out – straight into Harry's midriff. Harry let out an involuntary oomph as the child collided painfully with his solar plexus. Despite his momentary pain he reached out to steady the reeling boy, noting that Snape seemed to be scared stiff by his appearance. Following Snape's gaze, Harry understood why. A tall, brawny and clearly enraged man was standing in the room Snape had just left. Without a doubt, Harry knew the man to be Tobias Snape. The dark hair and hooked nose linked the son to the father.

'Who the ruddy hell are you?' the man demanded. 'And what in the blazes are you doing in my home?'

'I was looking for your son,' Harry replied stonily.

The man reeked of alcohol and Harry grimaced as he spotted the numerous empty beer bottles lying behind the man. Despite his obvious intoxication Tobias Snape appeared to be uncannily alert.

'What does the likes of you want with the boy?' Tobias leered at Harry before switching his gaze to his son.

The sight of Severus seemed to make Tobias angrier and before Harry could stop him, he'd wrenched the child away from him. The boy let out a startled yelp of pain but stopped quickly at a glare from his father. Tobias seemed to forget about Harry momentarily, instead focusing on his wayward son.

'Where have you been?' he spat lividly, holding Snape in place forcefully.

For the first time in his life Harry witnessed a tongue-tied Snape. The boy seemed unable to provide any explanation to his father.

CRACK!

Harry stared in shock as Snape fell to the floor, clutching his cheek – the force of Tobias' powerful backhand enough to knock the small boy off his feet.

Harry didn't hesitate.

Launching himself across the room Harry tackled the elder Snape to the ground.

'WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?' he roared, straddling the slightly bigger man in an attempt to subdue him.

But Tobias had no intention of being held down. The man bucked his hips, tilting Harry to the side slightly before trapping Harry's leg under him with his bodyweight. Rolling, Tobias managed to reverse their positions so that Harry was now pinned beneath the man.

'I was teaching my effing son a lesson,' Tobias snarled.

Harry glanced over to where Severus was crouching warily on the ground. Tear tracks were evident on the boy's grubby face and the imprint of Tobias' hand was glaringly obvious. Tobias had followed Harry's gaze and laughed aloud as he caught sight of his son. Turning back to Harry he grinned ferally.

'And now,' he continued, 'I'm going to teach you a lesson.'

Harry simply glared back.

'Go to hell,' he spat.

He was furious that he'd let Tobias catch him off guard but he had no intention of taking a beating from the man. Lashing out he struck Tobias' right ear with all his strength. The blow wasn't enough to stun Tobias but from the man's yell it sounded as though his ear drum had burst. Capitalising on the man's distraction Harry freed himself, but Tobias wasn't one to let his quarry escape. Facing off against each other, Tobias was the first to throw a punch. Harry dodged before attempting to land his own blow. The men exchanged a flurry of blows, some connecting but most simply glancing off their opponent. Eventually though, Harry's guard slipped and he felt the cartilage in his nose explode as Tobias' fist connected. Staggering backwards, the world seemed to tilt around Harry and grow darker as the blood flowed down the back of his throat. Blearily he stared around. His gaze met Snape's.

The boy was standing now, staring fixedly at Harry. His gaze lingered on Harry's nose briefly, and Harry was certain he saw a flash of satisfaction in the dark eyes. Confusedly, Snape seemed to be getting further and further away from him, as though Harry were being pulled away from him at speed. The world was almost dark around him and utterly silent but he could still see Snape's expression. The boy was smirking but his next words were sincere.

'Thank you, Potter.'

The words echoed around the dark space before Snape blinked out of existence.

There was a chilling moment of complete blackness before an explosion of light assaulted Harry. He forced his eyes shut as wave upon wave of memories washed over him, drowning him in Snape's childhood. He caught snatches of past thoughts and glimpses of old memories but before he could even register the content, they were gone.

XXXX

Opening his eyes slowly Harry found himself flat on his back but firmly back in his own mind. Groaning he pulled himself up to lean against the armchair, leaving his legs splayed out in front of him. His nose was throbbing painfully. With some trepidation he raised his hand to his face and winced as his fingers found tender tissue. His nose was swollen and definitely disfigured Harry noted as he probed the area with the lightest of touches. Pulling out a handkerchief Harry wiped away as much of the blood as he could, without damaging his nose further. Somehow the blow he'd received in Snape's subconscious had been replicated in reality.

That thought brought Harry instantly back to the present. Snape was less than two feet from him. The man was sitting rigidly in an armchair; his head was bent forward in his hands and he appeared to be muttering to himself. With great care Harry moved forward to crouch beside Snape. Reaching out he rested his hand on Snape's shoulder. The action startled Snape badly as he pulled away from the touch staring at Harry with wide unfocused eyes. Deliberately, Harry pulled his hand back but stayed where he was, watching as the confusion and fear gradually dispersed from Snape's gaze to be replaced with recognition.

'Potter?'

Harry nodded. Snape still seemed hesitant but his momentary confusion seemed to have left him to be replaced instead with a furrowed brow.

'Your nose is broken,' he said matter-of-factly.

'Yes,' Harry agreed. 'I must have hit it when I fell over...'

He trailed off, he was still unsure as to how exactly his nose _had_ been broken. Pulling out his wand though he silently repaired the cartilage, breathing a sigh of relief as the pain all but vanished. Snape was still watching him warily.

'I broke it,' he said suddenly.

'Pardon?'

'Your nose,' he said flatly, gesturing vaguely towards Harry's face, 'I broke it.'

Harry frowned before waving away Snape's admission.

'Yes, well I don't think you were quite in your right mind.'

Snape eyed him warily for a moment longer.

'No,' he agreed quietly, dropping his gaze to the floor, 'I wasn't.'

Harry moved back, placing himself on the edge of the coffee table after carefully repositioning the Pensieve.

'What do you remember, John?' he asked softly.

The man's head shot up immediately and for a several seconds he met Harry's gaze silently. Snape's eyes were dull but Harry got the impression he was seeing beyond Harry – searching the green eyes for some unknown answer. Eventually, a look of resignation settled over the Potion's master.

'John Smith is not my name,' Snape answered with certainty. 'I remember who I am. I remember Severus Snape.'

XXXX

**A/N:** Hello everyone. I must offer my most sincere apologies for the delayed posting of this update. I feel particularly bad that I let several of you know that an update would occur within a week...almost a month ago. I was on track to have this chapter out almost a month ago but unfortunately the family received some rather bad news. As such I wasn't quite in the headspace to be writing Harry Potter fanfiction. I'm back now though and I intend to continue on with both my stories. I won't make any promises on a regular update schedule though as it will depend on what happens in the next few months and thus is likely to be somewhat sporadic. I also have finals in the next few weeks. As much as I'd like to spend all day completing these stories I do want to pass my course! So I hope you enjoy this latest update and for the next few weeks at least I'll only be writing when I take a break from my study. Best of luck to all of those with exams out there! I would also particularly appreciate reviews this chapter as I hope that my writing is still up to standard. Until next time - CP


	5. October 2008 III

**Chapter 5 **

Extracting his head from the fireplace, Harry stood back to allow Madam Pomfrey access to his hearth. A glance towards his armchair confirmed that Snape had not moved in the few moments it had taken him to summon Poppy. The man remained with his head bent forward, buried in the depths of his hands, seemingly dead to the world. Even the roar of the fire did not rouse him as the emerald flames delivered Hogwarts' Medi-witch directly into Harry's study.

'I think he might be in shock,' Harry murmured quietly as he offered his arm to Poppy.

Grasping the proffered appendage, Madam Pomfrey sent Harry a withering glance as she stepped out of the fireplace.

'Of course he's in shock!' she scolded. 'The poor man's just remembered half his life in the space of a few hours! I highly doubt you'd be any better off, Mr Potter,' she snapped in exasperation. 'Not to mention, he's had _you_ rummaging around in his subconscious!'

'There was no other way to return his memories!' Harry replied indignantly, but Poppy was no longer listening as she bustled past him to reach Severus.

Giving Poppy some room to work, Harry seated himself in the other armchair and watched as she crouched down beside the oblivious Severus. He'd forgotten how incensed Poppy could get when she felt one of her patient's was in dire need of her attention. Admittedly, his request that "she come at once" had probably done nothing to ease her concerns.

Gently, Poppy reached out to clasp Severus' wrists in a comforting manner. Snape stiffened at the contact but he did not startle. However, neither did he look up.

'Severus, dear, it's Poppy. Do you think you might be able to let me have a look at you?'

Several minutes passed in silence. Harry began to doubt Snape would respond but Poppy seemed more than content to wait patiently. Finally, Snape slowly raised his head allowing Poppy to gently pull his hands away to rest upon his knees. Curiously, she did not let them go. Instead she gave them a slight squeeze as she smiled sadly at the lost man before her.

'Hello Severus.'

Her relief was evident in her tone but surprisingly, Harry was strongly reminded of a mother welcoming home a lost son. He watched silently as Poppy ran through several diagnostic spells, murmuring quiet reassurances to Snape. Occasionally, Snape would mumble something in return to the Matron but his voice was too low for Harry to make out what they were discussing. Finally, Poppy conjured a blanket which she tucked tightly around Severus's shoulders, before summoning a stool for herself. She angled herself in such a way that Harry was included in the conversation but he understood that he was merely an observer and that he was not to interfere. Withdrawing and enlarging a thick medical chart from her pocket, Madam Pomfrey set it down carefully beside her and tapped it lightly with her wand to ensure the interview would be recorded.

'I'm going to ask you a few questions now,' she said calmly, speaking directly to Severus. 'Some may seem redundant but I'd like you to answer them as best you can. If at any time you feel that you do not wish to answer a question, simply inform me and we shall move on. There is no obligation that you answer my questions.'

She paused momentarily and Snape nodded in understanding.

'Alright,' she began, her manner entirely professional, 'could you tell me your name?'

Snape did not seem surprised by the question and Harry realised Poppy must have conducted a similar interview when he had first arrived at Godric's Hollow.

'Severus Snape,' he answered tonelessly.

'When were you born?' Poppy continued.

'The ninth of January, 1960.'

The answer came spontaneously but it seemed to bewilder Snape. For a moment he was silent, his disbelief and confusion obvious.

'I'm forty-eight,' he stated monotonously, as though he couldn't quite bring himself to believe the statement. 'They told me I'd most likely been born in the mid 1970's. I'm fourteen years older than I thought I was.'

The last thought was almost a whisper and Harry felt for the man before him, understanding what a shock it must be for Severus to feel that he had aged fourteen years in the space of a few moments. Poppy glanced briefly at Harry and he knew she felt similarly. He watched as she leant forwards slightly and lightly rested her palms on Severus' knees.

'I understand it must be quite a shock for you Severus, to have seemed to have aged so suddenly,' she said comfortingly. 'I believe that many Muggles see the age of fifty as the half-way point in life so I realise it must feel as though you've lost a significant number of years quite suddenly. However, you are not a Muggle. You are a Wizard, dear, and therefore you are still quite young by our reckoning.'

Snape looked rather unconvinced. In fact he was staring at Poppy as though she had grown two heads. Glancing to his left, Snape's helpless gaze came inexplicably to rest on Harry. Feeling he better clear the matter up before it got out of hand, Harry spoke up.

'Wizards don't age at the same rate as Muggles do,' he began carefully. 'In fact, we age at almost half the rate they do. Where it is unusual for Muggles to live past one-hundred, it is quite normal for a Wizard to live to two-hundred and beyond. We think the influence of magic slows the aging process significantly, which is why the Muggles had trouble predicting your correct age. Of course Wizards still undergo puberty at the same age as Muggles do,' Harry hastened to add at the bemused look Poppy was giving him, 'we just don't get as old as quickly.'

'Thank you Mr Potter,' Poppy cut in, smiling indulgently at Harry's flushed cheeks.

Rolling his eyes, Harry graciously withdrew himself from the conversation motioning for Poppy to continue as he settled back in his armchair.

'Alright Severus,' she continued, 'can you tell me where we are at present?'

'Potter's house...in Godric's Hollow.'

'Do you know where in the UK Godric's Hollow is?'

Snape considered the question for a moment before shrugging his shoulders slightly in defeat.

'Not to worry,' Poppy continued briskly, 'I'm certain the answer will come back to you soon. Now, do you know what year it is Severus?'

'2008.'

'And the date today?'

'Saturday, the fourth of October.'

'Alright Severus,' began Madam Pomfrey, her voice taking on a slightly more gentle tone, 'do you remember your mother's name?'

Snape had clearly been expecting the question.

'Eileen...'

'Eileen?' prompted Poppy.

Snape hesitated.

'Eileen Snape,' he finally answered, his brow furrowed slightly with distaste.

Harry wondered at the answer. He knew Snape's childhood had been difficult but he was beginning to think it had been worse than he'd thought if his earlier sojourn into the man's subconscious was anything to judge it by and Snape's current obvious reluctance to discuss his parents.

'Was she always Eileen Snape?'

Harry admired the ease with which Poppy asked the difficult question, attempting to elicit more information from Severus. She phrased the question as though it were the most natural response in the world to Snape's answer and with all the gentleness and understanding of someone who had asked similar questions before and knew what to expect.

'She was always "Eileen Snape" if we knew what was best for us,' Snape replied darkly. 'Once she might have been "Eileen Prince" but my father hated that name.'

'And your father,' Poppy continued gently, 'what was his name?'

'Tobias Snape,' he replied shortly.

There was no mistaking the dislike in the man's tone and the finality he had spoken with made it clear that he had no desire to discuss Tobias Snape. Poppy did not push the point; instead she leant forward again and rested her palm against the arm rest.

'I understand that this is very difficult for you Severus,' she began slowly, 'but we need to gauge how much of your memory has returned and the only way I can do that is by asking you to tell me a bit about your childhood. I'm not asking for anything specific I just want you to talk to me. Let me know what you've remembered.'

For several moments Severus said nothing. Harry gazed off into space in an attempt to give Snape the privacy he needed. He did not wish for his presence to intimidate the man. Once again, Harry recognised that this Severus Snape who sat before him was so very different from the man he had known ten years earlier. He was so unsure of himself, in a way that his younger self had never been. His old Potion's master had always been in control of the situation, never faulting for a moment as he'd walked one of the most difficult paths of the War. His very presence had always been enough to quell both student's and Death Eater's alike into submission. But now, Snape's unease was painfully obvious as he struggled to cope with a situation where he found himself so out of his depth. However, he did not avoid the question and Harry considered that perhaps the old Snape was not as lost as he'd thought.

'I remember my childhood,' Severus admitted, his voice tight with constricted emotion. 'I know now where I grew up and with whom. I remember the days I spent at the local comprehensive and I remember the house on Spinner's End. I remember books that I read as a child and I remember growing up knowing that I was different. I know that as a nine year old I hated eating sprouts and cabbage, that my math teacher found me disruptive, that I was scared of the dog the next street across and that my greatest desire was to go to Hogwarts. I know what you are asking of me and I apologise in advance for my answer: I have no wish to discuss in any detail what you have returned to me. You have given me back nine years of my life. Do not doubt that it was not successful.'

Harry was not surprised by the answer and he noted that Poppy did not seem particularly perturbed either. If he was honest with himself, Harry found Snape's request quite reasonable given his limited knowledge of the man's childhood. Besides Harry had never been one to pry into other's childhoods. He found it was rather hypocritical of him to expect answers from others, given he had no desire to discuss his own.

'That's understandable Severus,' said Poppy after a moment's consideration. 'However, I want you to take it slowly for the next few days. You've had a big shock to the system and I want you to be careful. It will take a few days for everything to settle and while your mind is working out how everything fits together again you might find yourself dwelling on memories. I haven't seen any cases exactly like yours before,' she continued cautiously, 'but sometimes when people have traumatic obliviated memories restored they can start to become overwhelmed by everything. I'm not going to ask you to discuss your memories with me but I am going to ask that if you _do_ start to have trouble coping with the memories or if you do start to feel overwhelmed that you let Harry know. He'll know how to reach me and he'll make sure you're alright. I know my request might sound odd at the moment but I want you to remember that we're here to help you Severus. You're not alone in this...not anymore,' she finished.

Snape acknowledged the remark with a stiff inclination of his head, earning a wistful smile from Madam Pomfrey.

'There was one other matter I wished to discuss with you Severus,' Poppy began, pausing to glance deliberately at Harry.

The look was not missed by Snape and Harry watched as the older man's suspicious gaze came to rest upon him. Straightening under the scrutiny, Harry suppressed a sigh. It was clear Poppy meant for him to declare his role; despite the fact that she knew quite well that Snape would not appreciate Harry's disregard for his privacy.

'Madam Pomfrey is alluding to the notebook I discovered by your bedside table,' said Harry, his tone resigned.

It was immediately apparent that Snape knew exactly what Harry was referring to. In fact, Harry was eerily reminded of the time he had been caught intruding in Professor Snape's Pensieve.

'You had _no right_ to search my flat,' Snape snarled, his tone clipped with rage.

Harry did not bother to argue but neither did he offer an apology. As far as he was concerned Snape had no ground to stand on considering _he_ had searched Harry's home extensively himself. Instead, he looked imploringly towards Poppy. He'd owned up to his actions, which had undoubtedly been her goal, now it was her turn to uphold her end of the bargain and discuss the wretched thing with Snape – preferably before Snape took matters into his own hands.

'Yes, unfortunately Mr Potter's curiosity knows no bounds,' Poppy said dryly, finally taking the hint.

Harry let the comment slide with a roll of his eyes, used to Poppy's warped sense of humour.

'However, I am glad that Harry brought the matter to my attention,' she continued.

'I take it the contents of your "urgent letter" pertained to this,' Snape cut in sourly, directing the conversation back to Harry.

'Yes,' Harry admitted. Feeling compelled to offer an explanation for his actions he continued. 'You had no memory of our world, yet the subject matter of your notebook was entirely _Wizarding_. I sought Poppy's medical opinion purely as a precaution and in the hopes that she could offer some explanation.'

Snape held Harry's gaze for a moment longer before turning back to Madam Pomfrey.

'Well, is there a problem?' he demanded, only just managing to remain polite.

Poppy raised her eyebrow; a warning to Snape to keep his tone civilised.

'I do not think it cause for undue alarm,' she answered after a moment's silence.

'Potter's reaction begs to differ,' Snape replied, clearly unsatisfied with her answer.

'A mistake,' Harry cut in hastily. 'I am no Healer.'

'That does not –

Snape's angry retort was curtailed by Poppy.

'It was unusual Severus: that is all.'

Snape looked as though he were about to argue but the Medi-witch silenced him with a stern glare.

'Unusual, _only_,' she stressed, 'because I expected such vivid subconscious memories to be more prominent in your conscious mind. However, your situation is unprecedented and I believe now, with the success of today's endeavour, that there really is no cause for concern at all.'

Smiling reassuringly, Poppy stood and crossed to Harry's desk where she busied herself with Snape's medical chart, her hand flying across the page as she added her own notes to the record. Snape barely seemed to register her movement as he remained seated rigidly in his armchair, staring into space.

'All those strange dreams...I thought I'd gone insane,' Snape murmured to himself, so softly that Poppy – seated at Harry's desk – missed it. Harry however, still seated in the adjacent armchair, frowned at the whispered admission.

'I can see you're tired Severus,' Poppy said suddenly, looking up from the chart and startling both Harry and Severus with the unexpected interruption, 'so I won't keep you much longer. However, can you tell me what your last memories are? Is there a distinct point that you do not remember past or –'

'The memory Potter gave me,' Snape cut in flatly, making an effort to hide his discomfort at having been caught off guard. 'I remember nothing past that day.'

Poppy eyed him curiously but said nothing. Instead she made a quick note in the chart before closing it and returning it to her pocket.

'Well, I think we're about done here,' Poppy commented as she bustled out from behind the desk. 'Come now Severus, I think it's time you got some rest.'

Snape either recognised the veiled order for what it was or he truly was exhausted, Harry thought amusedly as he watched Madam Pomfrey accompany the Potion's Master back to his room. Yawning, Harry ruffled his hair as he stretched in the armchair. His sojourn into Snape's subconscious had been more tiring than he'd expected.

'Still, no rest for the wicked,' he muttered under his breath as he watched a Ministry memo appear in his In-tray.

Moving to his desk, Harry pulled the first of many reports towards him as he awaited the return of Poppy.

XXXX

'He's accepted a sleeping potion,' Poppy announced as she stepped back into Harry's study a good thirty minutes later.

'Good,' Harry replied, setting down the Ministry report he'd been leafing through. 'He looked quite tired this morning.'

'Yes,' Poppy agreed worriedly, as she reached for the Floo powder.

She had been several hours at Godric's Hollow and Harry knew she needed to return to the school. Standing, he crossed to assist her into the fireplace.

'Keep a close eye on him, Harry,' Poppy said as she accepted his arm and stepped into the fireplace. 'He's notoriously bad at accepting help from others.'

In a whirl of green flames she disappeared, leaving Harry by his fireplace.

'I know,' he murmured quietly to the empty grate.

XXXX

Harry stood on the edge of his patio gazing out towards the small lake at the bottom of his property. An empty Butterbeer was clutched loosely in his left hand, occasionally rotated absentmindedly by the Auror lost in his thoughts.

'Still a bit of an arse isn't he?'

The Butterbeer was instantly stilled as the familiar voice accosted Harry. Barely concealing a smirk at the blunt observation, Harry looked sidelong at the tall man who had come to stand beside him. His gaze as well was directed towards the lake – focussed on the man pacing the length of the bank.

'Only when he finds himself the centre of unwanted attention,' Harry answered, the slightest amount of mirth suffusing his tone.

Ron laughed at the comment, recalling his attention from the distant Potion's Master. Shaking his head slightly Ron held out one of the two Firewhiskeys he'd brought out with him. Setting down the empty Butterbeer Harry accepted the Firewhiskey, enjoying the fierce spark of the drink as it burnt its way down his throat.

'Well,' Ron agreed, sipping his own drink, 'you know Hermione. She was bound to be curious about the amnesia. I admit even _I_ was a bit curious and I can't stand the ruddy guy.'

Harry spluttered at Ron's earnest expression, inhaling some of his Firewhiskey by mistake. Exploding into a coughing fit as the Firewhiskey went down the wrong way, Harry doubled over temporarily as Ron pounded a little too enthusiastically on his back.

'Alright mate?'

Eyes streaming, Harry managed to nod which seemed to set Ron at ease and earned his back a reprieve from his best friend's fist. Ginny poked her head out the back door at the noise, her eyes narrowed somewhat at the perceived shenanigans of her husband and brother.

'Everything alright out here?' she asked suspiciously.

'Fine!' Harry managed to call out hoarsely.

'All good, thanks,' Ron added hastily.

Shaking her head, Ginny stepped back indoors returning to her own conversation.

'You know, Ron,' Harry began frankly, continuing the conversation as though it hadn't been interrupted, 'I think you're a bad influence on Hermione. She used to have much more tact.'

'Sod off, Harry,' Ron laughed. 'You're _such_ a prat sometimes.'

'No really,' Harry continued, barely coherent as he struggled not to laugh outright, 'I can understand her being curious about what he'd done for work but asking about –'

'And just what are you two giggling about?'

Evelyn's amused drawl pulled Harry up short and the younger man turned with haste to find his boss lounging against the patio doorframe.

'We weren't giggling,' Ron stated gruffly, the tips of his ears turning red in embarrassment – something Ron was still certain he'd grow out of.

Evelyn's eyebrows shot up into her hairline – a sure sign that she had something to say on the matter – but Harry spoke before she could start with Ron.

'Hello to you too Evelyn,' he greeted sarcastically.

Evelyn simply rolled her eyes. Harry laughed at the action before stepping forward and greeting his guest properly with an affectionate hug.

'We didn't realise you'd arrived already,' Harry offered as Ron greeted Evelyn. 'I thought for sure Ben would be out here the moment you arrived. Don't tell me he's in there making small talk with Ginny and Hermione,' he added, craning his neck in an attempt to see past Evelyn and into the kitchen area.

'Honestly Harry, how old are you?' Evelyn inquired as she swatted him away from her before he knocked them both off balance with his curiosity. 'Ben's not here. He had a few odd jobs he wanted to get done. Besides, he thought there'd be more than enough people here to ogle Lily without him. You know how he is; he just doesn't know what to do with newborns. I think he thinks they're a whole other species.'

She trailed off, and Harry thought she almost sounded regretful. But she perked up moments later with her normal dry humour, distracting him enough that the troubling thought was forgotten.

'I know it's a terrible disappointment to the pair of you,' she concluded seriously, 'but I'm afraid you're stuck with just me.'

'Well, it wouldn't be a problem if you had just a modicum of respect for Quidditch, Eva,' Ron grumbled seriously. 'It's perfectly normal to be enthusiastic about the local league.'

'It's not your enthusiasm for the league I question –'

'It's our inability to talk anything but tactics,' Harry finished for her. 'We know,' he continued, smiling apologetically at Evelyn, 'which is why we'll save the Quidditch discussion for the next time we see Ben.'

'You know I don't _really_ despise Quidditch,' she grumbled good-naturedly, content to let the subject drop.

Harry just grinned, causing Evelyn to shake her head in amusement.

'Evelyn, they aren't out there playing Quidditch are they?'

All three turned towards the doorway as the exasperated voice of Hermione Weasley reached them from the hallway. A moment later the woman herself appeared in the doorway, looking somewhat surprised to find all of them clustered by the patio door.

'Oh Hermione!' Evelyn gasped apologetically. 'I completely forgot to tell them. I got distracted and now you've had to come all the way out here.'

'Tell us what?' Ron asked, as he stepped forward to wrap a protective arm around his heavily pregnant wife.

'That dinner is ready,' Hermione replied succinctly. 'And don't worry Evelyn, I'm perfectly capable of getting around by myself still, despite Ron's view on the matter,' she added as she divested herself of her husband's arm and with her head held high made a point of walking unaided back inside.

Ron followed immediately behind her, watching like a hawk in case she were to fall, leaving Harry and Evelyn to follow behind. As he watched the couple disappear into the dining room Harry couldn't help but think that somehow pregnancy suited Hermione. Smiling to himself he turned back to Evelyn as they stepped into the dining room.

'I hope Albus wasn't too much trouble?'

'No, not at all,' Evelyn replied as she took her seat next to Harry. 'He was delightful.'

Ron and Hermione were already seated across from them with Ginny seated at the head of the table. The children – who had already eaten – could be heard playing across the hall in the living room, under the watchful eye of Kreacher.

'Although, he was quite curious,' Evelyn continued, as Harry filled her wine glass for her. 'Had quite a few questions for Ben and I.'

'What about?' Ginny asked innocently, a small smile curling her lip.

'Lily mainly,' Evelyn replied frankly, taking a small sip of her wine.

Harry suddenly had the terrible feeling that he knew _exactly_ what Albus had been asking about.

'What about her?' he asked carefully, dreading the answer.

'Well,' Evelyn began carefully, her tone as serious as ever, 'he was quite interested in how Lily came to be. Very insistent in fact, much like his father,' she added, glancing towards Harry, 'asking all manner of questions as little boys will. He was quite certain he wouldn't go to bed until he knew and I thought he'd never go to bed. So,' Evelyn finished frankly, 'I sat him down then and there and explained to him all about the birds and the bees.'

Harry simply gaped at Evelyn.

'I do hope you don't mind, Harry. I know traditionally the father has "the talk" with his son...'

Evelyn trailed off, studying Harry with concern. Her sudden attention jolted him back to reality and he reached shakily for his wine glass. After taking a long drink, he put the glass down and addressed Evelyn.

'You had "the talk" with my two year old son?' he asked disbelievingly.

Evelyn nodded.

'You told _Albus_ that Ginny and I...' Harry grasped for words, '...about Ginny and I...about how we _made_ Lily?'

'Yes.'

'I can't believe this,' Harry said hoarsely, reaching once again for his glass. 'What if he talks to other children about it? What if _they_ talk to their parents? What if –'

Harry was cut off as an undignified snort came from his right. Turning towards the sound, Harry watched as Ginny attempted to suppress her laughter but was unsuccessful. Within seconds the whole table was laughing and Harry realised with relief that he'd been the brunt of a joke.

'Very funny,' he muttered dryly, smiling despite himself as the laughter died down.

'I'm sorry Evelyn,' Ginny began, the amusement still evident in her sparkling brown eyes. 'I couldn't help it when he started worrying about what other parents would think. Sorry darling,' she added, reaching for Harry's hand and entwining their fingers.

Harry just shook his head in bemusement, smiling all the time as he gave Ginny's hand a squeeze.

'I told you he'd believe her,' Hermione commented knowingly to Ginny. 'Evelyn's much too convincing for her own good.'

'Yes, I rather think you are Evelyn,' Harry agreed.

'Oh really, Harry,' came the exasperated reply. 'What sort of person do you take me for? I merely told him what all parents tell their children at that age: that when Mummy and Daddy love each other very much...'

She trailed off, an eyebrow raised as she let Harry fill the blanks in himself. Under the withering look of his boss, Harry felt his cheeks grow warm.

'How was I supposed to know?' he replied defensively. 'All three of the boys have been asking me about it for weeks!'

His outburst only served to set off another round of laughter.

'You're all prats,' Harry grumbled good-naturedly, looking fondly at each of his guests in turn before his gaze came to rest upon his wife. Leaning over, he fixed her with a knowing gaze.

'Particularly you, Mrs Potter,' he drawled quietly, his voice dropping slightly as he closed the distance between them until only a fraction of space existed between them. 'You're the worst of them all,' he finished smugly, smirking at Ginny's unimpressed facade.

'Really?' she inquired curiously, raising her eyebrow slightly before deliberately closing the infinitesimal gap that had existed between them and capturing his lips firmly between her own.

The kiss lasted several seconds, before Ron – ever the diligent elder brother – interrupted them.

'Oi! Get a room you two,' he groused affectionately, although Harry was quite certain a small part of him still objected to his best mate snogging his sister within sight of him.

Regretfully, Harry pulled back sharing an amused look with Ginny.

'Perhaps we should feed your brother before he gets too restless?' Harry murmured to her quietly.

Ginny rolled her eyes, but nodded in agreement. With a flick of her wand several dishes floated into the dining room from the kitchen, coming to rest on the table. An extra plate caught Harry's eye and he stood to retrieve it from the end of the table.

'Oh I forgot!' Ginny exclaimed, standing herself as she noticed Harry pick up the extra plate. 'I meant to put a plate together for Severus.'

'Won't he join us for dinner?' Hermione asked, sounding slightly perplexed.

Harry studied the empty plate in his hand with a considering gaze as he weighed up several options. Glancing around the table he noticed that both Ron and Evelyn looked rather displeased with the notion that Snape might join them.

'No, I don't think he will,' he finally answered.

Ginny who had come to stand beside him gently removed the plate from his hand and began to fill it with several servings of the delicious food that adorned the table. It was clear that she understood the situation as well as Harry did – undoubtedly because she too had come to understand the differences between the Professor Snape they had known at school and the Severus Snape that now resided with them.

'I'll get Kreacher to take this out to him,' she said as she finished filling the plate.

'No, it's okay,' Harry said gently, extracting the plate from his wife's hands with care. 'I'll take it out to him.'

Ginny sent him a questioning glance but at his nod released the plate to his care.

'You lot start without me,' Harry insisted. 'I'll be back in a moment.'

XXXX

Snape was seated by the edge of the lake, his back to Harry and seemingly lost in thought. Still, it shouldn't have surprised Harry that he'd still heard his approach.

'Come to check on the invalid, Potter?'

His words brought Harry up short and he stopped just behind Snape. He sounded bitter. Bitter and, if Harry didn't know better, he'd have almost thought upset. Recollecting himself, Harry took the final steps forward and seated himself next to Snape. The man did not acknowledge his presence; instead he continued to stare stubbornly out across the lake.

'You're hardly an invalid,' Harry finally spoke, breaking the tense silence. 'And I didn't come out here to check on you. I got the impression you wanted to be on your own, otherwise you'd be welcome to join us for dinner.'

Snape snorted.

'What?' he growled incredulously, his tone heavy with sarcasm. 'Dinner with your inquisitive friend and that infernal woman you call your boss? I don't think so Potter.'

Harry barely managed to hide his surprised look as Snape's blazing dark eyes came to rest upon him, an eyebrow raised mockingly – daring him to contradict his statement.

'Look,' he began calmly, attempting to placate the man before him. 'Hermione really didn't mean to imply that there was anything unusual about regressing to accidental magic –' Harry winced as Snape's scowl darkened noticeably, '– and she certainly didn't mean that she considered you an invalid of any sort –'

Harry broke off with the stark realisation that he'd just dug himself into a _very_ deep hole. Scrambling to correct his mistake, he hastened to finish his explanation before Snape could cut him off.

'What I mean to say,' he continued swiftly, 'is that Hermione sometimes comes across as a bit overwhelming when you first meet her. It's not her fault – it's just she's brilliant. And sometimes she forgets that we aren't all as intelligent as she is and sometimes wires get crossed and people get the wrong end of the stick.'

Snape still looked unconvinced. Running a distracted hand through his hair, Harry tried once again.

'Believe me,' he said with as much conviction as he could, 'she has the _utmost_ respect for you. We all do. It's just sometimes her curiosity gets the better of her.'

Snape's expression didn't change, but eventually he nodded stiffly – accepting Harry's explanation.

'They're your friends Potter; it is not my place to quarrel with them.'

Harry glanced at the man beside him, confused by the abrupt change in manner. It wasn't like Snape to back down from an argument and as he gave the matter more thought it was certainly unusual that the Potion's Master had taken Hermione's comments to heart in the first place.

Harry frowned with that realisation and for the first time since Poppy had left looked more closely at the man beside him. He looked utterly exhausted. Snape's short cropped hair sat limply upon his head and his skin had taken on a sallow hue that Harry hadn't seen since the final days of the War. There were deep bags beneath his eyes and the shadow of them seemed to bleed into the man's eyes. The dark eyes which had once seemed to hold the ability to pierce his student's mind were dull, glazed over as though a fog had descended upon the man.

Poppy had warned him to watch Snape closely – had told him that he might find it hard to adjust to regaining his memories. Guilt and shame surged through Harry, warring with each other for dominance, as he considered that perhaps he had not been as diligent as he could have been.

'Severus, are you alright?'

Snape didn't remove his gaze from the lake, but his scowl darkened considerably.

'I do not require a babysitter Potter,' he growled.

'That wasn't what I asked,' Harry replied sadly, remaining stubbornly seated by the man who clearly did not want his company.

Snape continued to ignore him and Harry settled in for the long haul, stretching his legs out before him, content to wait the other man out. The minutes stretched out and before long twenty minutes had passed in silence. Idly, Harry wondered how Snape could maintain such a rigid posture. The whole time he'd been out there Snape had remained straight-backed, with his knees bent just enough to allow his elbows to rest upon them, supporting his head in the palms of his hands as he gazed out across the lake. More minutes passed by and Harry amused himself tracing mindless patterns in the grass beside him. A slight movement beside him was enough to distract Harry though, and he looked up in surprise to find Snape studying him.

The man's expression was as guarded as always, but Harry noted with satisfaction that clarity had returned to Snape's gaze. The fog had dissipated.

'Go back to your friends, Potter.'

'No,' Harry disagreed immediately. 'There are things more important than dinner parties.'

'I'm afraid you are correct, Auror Potter.'

Harry jumped to his feet, startled despite himself as the deadly serious voice of Evelyn Hughes – the voice of the Head of Magical Law Enforcement – reached him. Evelyn stood several feet from him, her piercing gaze fixed solely upon him. Despite the casual robes she had worn for dinner, Harry had no doubt that it was his boss, rather than his dinner guest, that stood grimly before him.

Snape had also shot to his feet at her words, standing stiffly beside Harry and scowling openly at the imposing woman before them. Evelyn seemed to feel Snape's gaze and Harry watched as her own gaze shifted languidly from him to come to rest upon Snape. For a single moment the professional facade dropped.

'A pleasure, as always, Snape,' she drawled, inclining her head slightly in a way that could only be construed as a mocking gesture.

Snape's upper lip curled slightly, but that was the only sign he gave that he found Evelyn's gesture impertinent. His response seemed to simply amuse Evelyn though and she smirked cruelly before finally turning away from the man and back to Harry.

'We are required elsewhere,' she continued as though she had entirely forgotten Snape was still there. 'I'm afraid there has been another –'she hesitated for a fraction of a second as she searched for an appropriate word, the brief flicker of her eyes towards Snape and back to Harry the only indication that she was aware Snape was still listening –'_situation_.'

Harry nodded in understanding. Clearly there had been another attack. Evelyn had already turned back towards the house and Harry had taken several steps to follow her when he'd realised he still held Snape's dinner. Turning back, he passed the brooding man his forgotten dinner.

'Sorry,' he offered, before turning his back and striding back towards the house.

As he walked away from Snape, he wondered what he'd been apologising for. Keeping the man from his dinner? For Evelyn's behaviour? Or for once again leaving the man alone?

XXXX

'Who the bloody hell are you?' Harry murmured in frustration, dragging his hands through his already tousled hair. 'I'm missing something...I've got to be. You can't be _this_ good.'

Once more he bent over his scribbled accounts of various witness statements from Sunday evening. There had been a fire in an overcrowded London nightclub. Normally, Harry wasn't involved in such investigations but two things stood out about this particular incident. The nightclub had been a _Muggle_ nightclub and the fire – well that was the worst of it, he thought despondingly – the fire had been Fiendfyre. Harry had seen horrors before; he'd seen the horrific and the horrendous. Ten years as an Auror and his experiences with Voldemort did that to a person. But he'd never seen hell before. And that was what Sunday night had been. A terrifying glimpse into hell.

_Bodies burnt beyond recognition. The smell of gasoline mixed with the putrid stench of burning flesh. Screams of terror, pain and grief. The unbearable taste of ash in his mouth as he'd fought to free trapped survivors – and the horrible realisation of what the ash he was breathing in was._

The Muggles had called it an appalling accident – a devastating gas explosion. The truth was they were perplexed. The scale of devastation was proportional to a bomb blast but there'd been no explosion. And so the Muggles had labelled it an accident.

Typically the Wizarding World had barely noticed. Harry knew because he'd read the page 35 column that briefly made mention of the "unfortunate accident". And those few wizards and witches who had noticed were content to accept the Muggle version of events. No one believed it was the work of Wizards. No one except Harry Potter.

'How did you _do _it?' Harry muttered aloud.

For that was the crux of the matter. The person responsible was clever – far too clever for their own good. Fiendfyre was quintessentially Wizarding and notoriously difficult to control. By all rights the Ministry should have been involved in containing the incident. However, the perpetrator _had_ been able to control the Fiendfyre. In fact their control of the Fiendfyre was masterful. To avoid alerting the Ministry they had removed the Fiendfyre once it had done its work and allowed the building to burn normally. It was only by chance that Harry had arrived early enough to witness the Fiendfyre for himself. As it stood now, he was acutely aware that there was someone _very_ dangerous out there – someone who had absolutely no regard for human life.

'Dad?'

Harry startled slightly as James' voice broke his train of thoughts. His son was standing at the doorway to his office, looking unsure about whether to come in or stay out. He looked scared and Harry realised he must have heard him muttering.

'Come here, James,' he called softly; putting aside the parchments he'd been looking over and stepping away from his desk.

James hesitated for a second longer before racing across the threshold and throwing himself at Harry. Automatically Harry caught him, picking him up with a flourish and flinging the boy over his shoulder as he turned on the spot. James let out a delighted squeal as Harry carried him towards his armchair before plonking himself down with James on his lap.

'What can I do for you, mister?' he asked playfully, idly planting a kiss on James forehead – the events of Sunday evening still weighing heavily on his mind.

'Stop it, Dad!' James squealed, pulling away from Harry. 'Your face is all scratchy,' he said matter-of-factly, fixing his father with a disgusted look.

'Is it?' Harry asked in mock surprise, raising a hand to rub his cheek knowing full well he hadn't shaved since Sunday evening.

Despite his previously disgusted look James didn't hesitate to run his own hands across his father's cheeks – clearly intrigued by the stubble.

'It's scratchy!' he repeated again, this time his tone piqued with curiosity and just a touch of awe.

'Yes, Daddy needs to shave,' came Ginny's amused voice.

She was standing in the doorway, Lily resting in her arms as she watched her husband and son.

'I sent James up here to tell you Severus is on his way in,' Ginny continued, fixing James with an exasperated look that clearly said she was aware he had not passed on the message.

'I forgot,' James admitted, sounding only mildly abashed.

'Ah well,' Harry replied, ruffling the boy's hair affectionately before setting him down in front of him. 'Why don't you go and help Mum with Lily?'

James agreed readily enough, bouncing across to his mother and sister.

'Right, let's go James,' Ginny said as she took his hand and led him out of the room, pausing only to smile at Harry before disappearing out into the corridor.

Harry remained seated for a moment longer before standing and retrieving the Pensieve from his desk drawer. By the time he'd returned it to the small coffee table between armchairs Severus had arrived. He did not hesitate to enter, closing the door behind him before crossing to his armchair and seating himself. Harry eyed him speculatively for a moment, still unused to seeing his Potion's Master without his classroom robes, before seating himself.

Snape's cheeks were flushed and Harry wondered for how long he had been out pacing the grounds this morning. His shirt sleeves were rolled to his elbows, the light blue Oxford shirt unable to hide the tell tale signs of Snape's exertions. He still looked tired though and Harry knew he would have to address the problem if it went on much longer. At present though, Snape seemed content to disappear from the house for hours on end, returning only for meals and to meet with Harry. For the past few days they had confined themselves to working only on Snape's magic but today Harry had planned to return another memory to the man. If the man's tense posture was anything to go by it was clear he too remembered Harry's plan.

'Shall we?' Harry asked without preamble, extracting the next memory from the Pensieve.

XXXX

This time Harry was prepared for the strange falling sensation of entering Snape's subconscious and didn't fight it as he hurtled through the man's conscious mind. He managed not to flinch too badly as he once more rushed headlong towards the very realistic looking ground of Snape's mind, only to be brought to a stop mere moments from hitting the ground with force. Picking himself up Harry immediately noticed several discrepancies from the last time he had been in Snape's subconscious. Unlike the first time the memory he had returned was not playing out before him, in fact looking around he seemed to be at the start of Spinner's End. It was also much darker than the last time he'd been there – as though not as much thought had gone into creating Harry's surroundings. Turning on the spot he noted his visibility was reduced to 200 feet. Past that the world in Snape's mind simply seemed to fade into nothingness creating the surreal feeling of an encroaching darkness. Giving the matter some thought, Harry wondered if perhaps the bleakness of his surroundings was in some way connected with Snape's brooding mood of the past few days.

To top matters off though, it was raining. A foreboding sign if anything, Harry thought with unease as he pulled the collar of his jacket up in an attempt to keep his neck and back dry. The last time it had started raining Snape's father had turned up and that was one situation he was hoping to avoid this time. Not for the first time he wished he had his wand on hand, even simply for the physical comfort holding the supple Holly wood brought him. Plus, an impervious charm wouldn't go amiss at present, he thought lamentably.

'Well I guess I'd better find you,' Harry murmured aloud.

Shoving his hands deep into his pockets he strode towards Snape's house. The rain began to pound more heavily as he got closer, drumming a tattoo against his back as the sky darkened ominously as he approached his destination. Quickening his pace he dashed for the relative cover of the small porch that belonged to the Snape family. So determined was he to get out of the rain that he didn't realise he was sharing the porch with another person.

'You came back.'

The words came out tonelessly, merely an observation from the nine-year old Severus Snape who sat upon the doorstep, his back resting upon the door frame. The front door was shut and Snape's face partially in shadow but Harry could tell he wasn't looking at him. In fact the boy's intense gaze seemed to be fixed on his fingers as he fidgeted intently with his tatty jeans, seemingly picking threads from his right knee cap. Having recovered from being caught off guard, Harry finally managed a reply.

'Yes,' he offered simply.

'Why?' Snape demanded, his gaze fixed solely upon the work of his fingers.

'I promised you I'd get your memories back.'

Snape's fingers stilled at Harry's word but still the boy avoided his gaze. After a moment his attention returned to his knee and Harry had to strain to catch the mumbled words of Snape's reply.

'No one ever comes back.'

The statement was so heart-wrenchingly true that Harry had no reply for him. The silence stretched on as Snape continued to fidget with his knee, apparently content to ignore Harry. Feeling uncomfortable and overbearing as he loomed over the distracted nine-year old, Harry crouched down next to the boy. Snape spared him the merest glance before returning his attention to his knee. The swift glance was enough though for Harry's keen eyes and his brow darkened as he processed what he'd seen. The small movement had thrown Snape's face into sharp relief, banishing the shadows which the boy had clearly sought solace in and revealing the intense bruising which marred the boy's right side.

Instinctively Harry leant forward, his gaze fixed intently on the boy in front of him.

'What happened?' he asked quietly, his tone deadly serious.

Slowly he reached out for Snape's chin, wanting to gently turn his cheek to inspect the damage properly. But Snape was having none of it, recoiling violently from Harry and fixing him with a furious gaze.

'Leave me alone!' the boy snarled.

Harry dropped his arm back to his side, rocking back on his haunches.

'I can't do that, Severus,' he said gently, his expression one of sorrowful understanding.

Perhaps it was that there was no pity in Harry's tone or perhaps it was simply because Snape's subconscious needed this to happen – but for whatever reason, Snape sat forward again trusting in Harry's words. Once again, Harry raised his arm slowly to gently turn Snape's head. He paused inches from the boy's face and waited patiently for permission. The boy held his gaze and when he didn't withdraw Harry closed the distance and with the utmost care turned the boy's face towards him. The bruising was still fresh, the orbit already swelling and the right eye bloodshot where Snape's father's blow had burst the capillaries. Thinking rapidly, Harry came to a decision. Carefully he released Severus' chin and withdrew his hand.

'Is he still here?' he asked quietly, nodding towards the door behind Severus.

The boy shook his head, his shoulders shaking as he gulped in a great gasp of air. It was then Harry realised Snape was trying not to cry. The suppressed sobs shook the boy's small frame and a traitorous tear escaped its binds – winding its way down Severus' cheek with free abandon. Without comment, Harry reached into his jacket and withdrew his handkerchief. With naturalness born from fatherhood he calmly wiped away the tears as tenderly as he would any of his own son's tears. Snape sat stone still, completely overwhelmed by Harry's actions.

'It's okay,' Harry murmured, stashing the handkerchief away. 'You're alright. You'll be alright.'

He offered the boy a watery smile which widened immensely when Snape gave him the tiniest of nods. It wasn't much, Harry considered, but it was a start.

'Come on,' he said lightly, 'let's get you fixed up.'

Automatically Harry leant forwards and before Snape could protest had scooped the gangly nine-year old up into his arms and stepped into the house. Taking a few moments to orientate himself, Harry struck out towards the kitchen with his cargo held securely against his chest. Snape said nothing and Harry wondered whether it was the pain or the shock that kept the boy silent. He suspected it was a bit of both, which did nothing for his escalating fury towards Tobias Snape.

Setting Severus down on the kitchen bench top, his short legs dangling over the edge, Harry located the ice box and withdrew a half-used packet of frozen peas. Glancing around the kitchen for something to wrap the peas in he spotted a dish rag. It was dirtier than he'd have liked but he wasn't at liberty to be picky. Wrapping the peas up tightly, Harry approached Severus and gently brought the frozen peas up to rest on his right temple. The boy flinched slightly as the bag made contact but relaxed once the coolness began to seep through the cloth, providing some relief from the pain.

Holding the bag in place for Severus, Harry's eyes roamed the kitchen in search of items he could requisition to aid Snape. A collection of plants by the windowsill looked particularly promising.

'How's the pain?' Harry asked as he turned back to Severus, pulling the bag away to inspect the bruising.

'S'okay,' the boy mumbled, grimacing slightly as he spoke.

'Hmm,' Harry agreed, not sounding convinced in the least. 'Swelling's gone down a bit,' he commented before directing Severus' hand up to hold the bag. 'Here hold this in place for a moment.'

Certain the bag was secured in place, Harry crossed the room to study the plants more closely. He smiled as closer inspection revealed them to be just the plants he wanted.

'I take it your mother has a fondness for Potions,' he commented over his shoulder as he took an inventory of the kitchen cupboards, carefully placing the small mortar and pestle he'd discovered on the kitchen table, along with a tub of honey.

On the top shelf he discovered what he was looking for. Opening the small pill bottle he shook out a Paracetamol tablet and crossed to the sink to fill a glass. Turning back to Snape he handed the boy the tablet and glass and watched him swallow the mild analgesic.

'That should kick in soon,' he commented, passing back the frozen peas in exchange for the glass. 'Keep that ice on. I won't be a minute.'

Snape nodded and Harry smiled encouragingly before crossing once again to the two plants that had caught his attention. With care he removed several leaves from the Comfrey and Aloe Vera and placed them in the mortar and pestle. He ground them into a paste, adding a small amount of honey to thicken the concoction. Complete, he approached Severus.

'Unfortunately this is a _very_ limited bruise paste but it should speed the healing up a bit,' he explained as he used two fingers to gently apply the paste to Snape's right temple.

Stepping back, Harry appraised his work.

'Are there any other bruises?' he asked seriously.

The small boy shifted restlessly beneath his gaze, providing Harry with an answer.

'Where?'

Snape worried his lip with his teeth for a moment before finally pulling the edge of his shirt up to reveal an ugly bruise across his right chest. Silently, Harry stepped forward and applied the paste. The bruise was older than the one on the boy's face and Harry suspected it had been quite painful for several days. Task complete, he replaced Snape's shirt and stepped away. Snape was staring at him though, studying him with an appraising look that Harry was certain did not belong to this nine-year old version before him. In fact it reminded him of his Potion's Master. Setting the paste back on the table, Harry leant back against the kitchen table, arms and legs crossed as he met Snape's gaze. Figuring he was speaking to the older version of Snape's subconscious he raised a question that was beginning to bother him.

'Why do you allow these memories to torment you, Severus?'

A slight smirk curled the younger boy's lips and Harry knew he'd guessed correctly that it was the older Snape.

'Is there some other delightful memory I should be tormenting myself with, Potter?'

'That's not what I meant,' Harry ground out.

'Who says I have any choice in the matter?' Snape replied seriously, the smirk gone.

'It's your subconscious,' Harry stated, frowning at the non-answer.

'Ah, and so logically that must mean I am the one in control,' Snape drawled, his tone taking on an amused quality. 'But it is your decisions here that count Potter, not mine.'

'What are you talking about?' Harry asked warily.

'Exactly what you asked about,' Snape replied deadpan.

'This is ridiculous!' Harry retorted, in frustration. 'I'm trying to help you!'

'Then prove it, Potter,' Snape said simply.

'What the bloody hell does that mean?' Harry groaned, as he scrubbed both his hands down his face.

Snape did not reply. Frustrated, Harry abruptly strode from the kitchen before he could say something he'd regret. Distancing himself from Snape's infuriating answers he deliberately stalked outside only realising it was now pouring once his anger had carried him out into the middle of the street.

'Of course,' he muttered aloud, as his clothes soaked through in a matter of seconds.

A bolt of lightning split the sky seemingly in answer to his words, followed seconds later by a clap of thunder. Harry turned on the spot, a wild look in his eyes as he lifted his face towards the sky as the world lit up around him. Throwing his arms wide he exposed his chest to the world, daring Snape to strike him down.

'Let me help you!' he yelled at the sky, pleading with Snape's subconscious to make it easier for the both of them. Because if there was one thing this second visit had taught Harry – it was that Snape's subconscious mind was a dangerous place. It was too real. And that's what scared him: the fact that sometimes he forgot where he was.

He was breathing heavily as he let his arms fall to his side, certain that he would get no answer. As he turned to return indoors the sky lit up brilliantly once more as lightning tore across the world. Harry waited for the thunder to answer the challenge but the world remained eerily silent. A horrible sense of unease filled Harry as seconds passed and the silence stretched on. As though he were turning in slow motion, he looked back towards the house he had fled from and felt his breath falter. Standing in the doorway was Tobias Snape – and he was not alone.

The man leered at Harry from the protection of his porch, eyeing him speculatively. Harry ignored him completely, taking a determined step forward – intent on removing Severus from his father's clutches.

'Uh ah,' Tobias smirked, mirroring Harry's step forward by taking a step backwards. 'I don't think so.'

Severus was pulled backwards with his father, a strangled gasp escaping him as Tobias' grip on his neck tightened painfully. The sound was enough to stop Harry dead. Standing in the middle of the road, his composure hanging on by a thread, Harry met Tobias' gaze stonily. He did not fear this man.

'Let him go,' he ordered, his tone deceptively calm.

'Like that, wouldn't ya?' Tobias mocked. 'Be easy for yer.' He paused, deliberately tightening his grip on Severus. 'But where's the fun in that?' he asked lightly.

'Hurt him again,' Harry warned quietly, his words holding a deadly promise. 'And you _will_ regret it.'

Tobias simply laughed.

And something inside Harry snapped.

His legs had already carried him across the road before his brain realised he'd acted. Tobias had anticipated his actions though and had moved more quickly than Harry could have anticipated to slam the door shut – barring Harry from the house. His momentum carried him up onto the porch and he barrelled at full speed into the door. Pain tore through his left shoulder as Harry staggered back from the door, clutching his arm to his chest. He wasted precious seconds shaking the fog of pain from his mind, all the time cognizant of the sounds of a struggle occurring on the other side of the door. Cursing under his breath he managed to take a step back and aimed a powerful kick towards the side of the lock. The wood buckled and Harry wasted no time repeating his actions. It took two more direct hits before the lock gave way and the door burst open.

Stepping into the hallway, Harry's gaze fell immediately upon the two bodies warring by the bottom of the stairs. It seemed the little boy had caught Tobias unawares and somehow managed to free himself enough to wind Tobias. But Snape's father was a brute of a man and the surprise of being bested by his nine-year old son was fast wearing off. Making an instant decision, Harry stepped forward and dragged Severus away from Tobias, pulling the little boy with him into the kitchen.

Slamming the door shut behind them he left a shaken Severus standing in the middle of the room as he rammed a chair up against the door handle – hoping to delay Tobias temporarily. If he was right then he only needed a few moments of time. Or a lot more time, he thought grimly as his gaze came to rest on the paralysed form of Severus Snape. Adding his body weight to the door, Harry crouched down so that he was eye level with the boy.

'Severus,' he called urgently. 'I know you're scared, but right now I need you to listen to me. For both our sakes.'

Snape didn't move. In fact the boy seemed to be out of his mind with fear.

'Severus, please!' Harry called, the slightest hint of desperation seeping into his tone.

The phrase seemed to jolt the boy out of his trance though, and it was only later that Harry would realise the significance of his words. They were the last words Albus Dumbledore had spoken.

'Severus,' he began quickly, gazing steadily at the scared little boy before him. 'How long have you been scared of your father?'

Something flashed in the boy's eyes – a presence that Harry knew meant he was on the right track – but it was gone before he could blink.

'How long, Severus?' he asked gently, as the door jolted; Tobias Snape was breaking in.

Severus' gaze flickered fearfully towards the door before coming back to rest on Harry. Wetting his lips the boy finally found the courage to answer Harry.

'Forever,' he whispered, his voice cracking slightly.

Harry smiled encouragingly as another blow shook the door.

'And when did you stop being scared?' he asked deliberately.

The little boy gaped at him, soundlessly shaking his head in denial.

'He's not real Severus,' Harry continued, ignoring the boy's denial. 'He's only out there because you _think_ you're scared.'

The ultimate protection, Harry thought silently as the door finally gave way behind him. Snape's own fears hiding away his lost memories. Because that was what Tobias Snape was – a subconscious projection that held the key to Snape's memories. Harry had only realised after he'd ordered Tobias Snape to let Severus go. _"Like that wouldn't ya. Be easy for yer."_ The man's taunts had reminded him eerily of his earlier conversation with the older version of Severus Snape. Now, Harry was hoping he'd guessed right.

As he jumped away from the splintered remains of the door, Harry grabbed Severus and ensured the table was placed between them and Tobias. The world seemed to become silent as Snape's father stepped deliberately into the kitchen, his maniacal gaze fixed solely on Harry.

'You lost your power over him years ago, Tobias. You have no place here,' Harry stated calmly.

His words only seemed to encourage the man. With a leering smile, Tobias stepped further into the room. Something about his unyielding gaze chilled Harry to the core. Briefly he wondered if it were possible to be killed in someone's subconscious. As Tobias continued to silently approach, Harry had the horrible feeling that he'd misjudged everything.

'Are you scared?'

He had almost forgotten the boy was beside him. Harry glanced down at Snape, surprised by the question. But he was more surprised by his answer.

'Yes,' he admitted truthfully.

A small hand slipped into his own, a gesture of comfort Harry had never expected from Severus Snape. Startled, Harry once more looked down at the boy.

'I'm not,' Severus whispered in return.

Time seemed to stop and the world disappeared from around them as blackness descended. Harry felt Severus let go of his hand and watched him disappear as Harry was pulled out of Severus' mind. Even as the little boy disappeared before him, the remembrance of a small genuine smile remained with Harry.

On the cusp of Snape's subconscious mind Harry felt memories explode to life around him. He allowed himself a small smile in relief at their success as he left Snape's mind and blackness overtook him.

XXXX

**A/N:** Long overdue. Apologies. Thanks to all who have continued to review and read - I honestly can't thank you enough for your encouragement and appreciation. I'm hoping uni work will drop off a bit in 6 weeks so I don't intend to have such a huge gap between updates again. I should be updating "The Truth is Hidden in Memory" in the next few weeks. Rest assured that I won't be abandoning either of my stories.

I know I don't deserve it but a few words in a review would be very worthwhile. It's been a while since I had a chance to sit down and write this universe so I hope I haven't lost my touch.

Until next time!


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